The Fix
by j3nnee
Summary: Neal is hurt while saving a kidnapped Peter. Whumpage, Angst, Comfort, Friendship, reference to drug usage and possible suicide refs / violence. Season spoilers for 1 & 2
1. Chapter 1

**(Chapter 1 - Present time...)**

Neal glanced around the alley outside the old tenement house and noticed immediately the broken window on the third floor. He was glad he decided against a suit for once and wore some black denim jeans with a dark blue flannel button up over a black tee. He had a leather jacket that matched, looking quite the sophisticate or maybe the cat burglar type if Peter were here.

_Peter..._

He sighed looking up at the window and knowing he had to get in there. It was a bit of a climb with the fire escape missing but there were storm pipes that look more than sturdy enough. One stopped short of the window but he should be able to get far enough. He glanced around on the gloomy winter's day and saw nobody passing by as he shuffled casually into the alley underneath his point of entry. Neal pulled on some leather gloves he had for the cool weather as he took a hold of the metal staples that held the pipe in place and used it and parts of the aging, pitted brick as hand and footholds. Everything held for the meanwhile as he agilely made his way upwards, closer to the broken window.

Neal managed to stretch up and reach the ledge, getting a good grip with one hand and pulling himself up till he was inside, broken glass on the ground where he had pushed in the remaining shards. He was thankful he had brought gloves, seeing a few small cuts on them where they would have been on his hands. He quietly crossed the dusty, empty room, an open door 10 feet to his right. Neal stepped through into a dustier hallway, empty and as forlorn as the other room. It seemed abandoned if anything but this was the place. He quietly crept further down the hall when he heard a scraping sound ahead. Neal paused, listening as he honed in on where the sound was coming from. Finally he saw a door at the end of the hallway, the only door that didn't look decomposed with age. He headed quietly towards the door, the scraping sound getting louder as he approached.

He pushed his ear to the door and listened but only the scraping sound could be heard. It might be an animal but it sounded too rhythmic. Neal pulled a small case from his pocket and opened it up. Inside were what looked like metal picks, his thin artistic fingers drawing two out and quietly working on the door's lock. It only took him a few minutes and the lock popped open, Neal turning the knob slowly and deliberately.

The room was dusty like the other rooms, a dirty mattress in the corner on the floor. A radiator sat nearby which was the source of the scraping, a figure laying still on the mattress, eyes closed, tape over their mouth and hands bound over their had with metal cuffs to the pipe.

"_Peter?_" Neal hissed as he glanced around the dimly lit room. The windows had been boarded shut with scrap metal, very little light entering the room. The figure didn't respond, the scraping sound from their cuffs moving against the radiator pipe. The figure lay on the dirty mattress, a low groan erupting from the figure's throat. Neal moved a bit closer, taking out a small pen light and shining it at the figure which made him gasp.

"_Peter..._" His voice trailed off as he saw it was his friend. Peter lay shirtless, his chest covered in bruises and scratches. Dried blood covered most of the agent's chest and clotted blood stuck thickly to his forehead where it had dripped down his temple from a wound. Neal tried not to panic as he saw his friend laying there hurt. He was just glad the man was alive and his sources had been correct.

"_Peter... wake up._" He whispered quietly, glancing back occasionally. He wondered why the men asking for ransom would leave their victim alone. The whole setup made Neal nervous for some reason. He pulled the picks out again and undid the cuffs as he freed his friend, removing the tape and rags from Peter's mouth.

"_Peter... it's Neal... wake up!_" He was begging now, his voice quiet as he held his friend close and tried to nudge him to consciousness. The agent slumped loosely against him.

"_Peter..._" Neal sighed in frustration but he had to get his friend out. He was sure he couldn't drag him out the window with him but would have to find a way down to the street level and outside. He pulled out his cell hoping Jones would pick up. He was surprised when he heard the beep and looked to find there was no signal. Why wouldn't he have a signal in the city? It didn't make any...

He never got to finish the thought as someone cuffed him against the back of the head. Neal slumped over beside his friend. His gloved hands struggled to push against the dirty floor and mattress but he was stunned and unable to do much. Someone lifted him up and pressed him against the wall, one arm twisted hard behind him. Neal winced but something was stuffed into his mouth, tape pulled over his lips. He was vaguely aware of two dark figures with masks standing there, one of them holding him firmly.

"Ah... so the partner comes to the rescue. It's a shame you won't be leaving. Hold him still!" Neal felt the grip on his arm twisted more till he was forced to stiffen his body, a hand around his neck and chest holding him erect. He could just make out that the man was pulling something out of his pocket. Neal's eyes widened as the saw the Kbar held before him, the blade brought down to his free arm and cut up the side. He twitched in fear but only heard a ripping sound as his jacket sleeve and shirt were opened up. The blade didn't catch his skin luckily as the man tossed it aside and took his arm firmly in his hand. The masked man pulled out a rubber tube and tied it around Neal's upper arm till he could feel it start to go a bit numb. He struggled ever so slightly but was held tight.

"We waited for you to try this out knowing your past. Figured it would be a good way to get rid of an asset that would otherwise put our boss away for good." The man was smiling, finishing up with the tourniquet as he started pulling out a bottle and syringe. He inserted the latter and drew in a large amount of the yellowish liquid. It looked vile as the man tapped the needle and then pulled Neal's arm taut and stuck it into a vein. Neal winced seeing the jaundiced liquid pushed into his veins. It burned upon contact, his body twitching as it entered his system. Whatever they were giving him it felt like liquid fire burning inside of him, the feeling coursing slowly up his arm as the tourniquet was removed and it moved further up into his body. He felt his other arm freed as he was dropped to the ground.

"We won't bother cuffing you knowing your track record for escaping but you won't want to move for a bit. Here's the bottle for when you want more." The man laughed, dropping the bottle and a clean syringe in plastic beside him on the floor. Neal's eyes unfocused as they rolled back into his head and he felt the drug course throughout his body, vision slowly fading to black.

**()()()**

Peter was cold but he was too tired and drugged up to shiver much less move much. His body was one big ache, his back the worse of his pains as he lay against something rough. He wanted to shift his body to a more comfortable position but again, he was too tired and too weak to move, the slow scraping of his cuffed wrists all the sound he heard as he lay there partially conscious. His legs were free but his mouth was full of rags, duct tape over his lips. He gave a weak groan.

At some point he thought he heard something. They had finally left him alone and he was glad for it but if the sound was them returning, he wished suddenly for a hole to hide in. His body ached too much from the beatings they'd given him while he was held. He didn't understand why they had waited so long to ask for a ransom if that's what they truly wanted. The man in charge of his kidnapping was a notorious mobster he'd been tracking along with Jones and Diana. The man's name was Randall Friscinetti and he was known for getting rid of those that got in his way, especially cops and Feds.

Peter shifted slightly but it wasn't enough to alleviate the pain he felt. The sound came closer, soft quiet footsteps followed by a low scraping noise that wasn't his cuffs.

"_Peter?_"

A familiar voice spoke to him but he couldn't answer even if he hadn't been gagged, they had denied him all but the minimum in water and food over the length of his capture. Peter felt the floor boards shifting under the mattress as the figure walked closer. His eyes remained shut so he could only go by his other senses. He felt pressure on the left side of the mattress as someone eased onto it beside him and touched his arms pulled over his head. He heard a quiet tinkling of metal as his wrists were freed from the cuffs and he was lifted gently into someone's arms. He could feel their warm breath and hear them speaking quietly, worry and concern in their tone. He slumped against their shoulder, the material cool beneath his cheek with a unique scent. Peter realized it was leather mixed with some cologne he could only just remember smelling before.

Then as quickly as he felt the familiar presence, they were pulled from him as he slumped against the moldy mattress again. There was a loud cracking sound and a thud as someone or something fell to the floor near him. He wanted to wake up and say something but he was still too weak to respond, mouth dry, his eyes still closed tight. His captors were there, he heard their voices as they hissed at the other figure.

_Don't hurt him... Please!_

He thought but was unable to reply, his fingers moving ever so slightly as he lay there but it was useless to think he could act. He wanted to but his body was far too exhausted, his little bit of conscious fading to nothingness as he heard the men laughing.

**()()()**

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he was conscious again. He felt his eye lids flutter softly open, the faint light making it hard to see with his sight already unfocused as it was. Peter found himself curled up on his side, his back hurting as he shifted slightly. He could feel the cuts there stinging from where he had been tied down and lashed till he passed out. The agent made a low gasp but little else escaped his lips as he glanced tiredly around him. He saw a figure laying not more than a few feet away dressed in dark clothes. Peter dragged himself closer to see who it was, his eyes widening at the discovery.

_Neal?_

Peter nudged the young man gently but Neal didn't respond. He poked at him again, feeling for a pulse. Neal's skin was cool to the touch and sweaty, a faint but steady pulse evident.

_Neal..._

He wanted to speak but still his throat was dry and no sound escaped his chapped, split lips. He held his hand underneath Neal's nose and mouth, frowning when he felt no breath. He rolled the young man onto his back gently as he cleared Neal's throat and started to breath for him.

_Breath Neal... Please..._

Peter pushed what little air he could spare in his own weakened condition into Neal's mouth, feeling and seeing the air move the young man's chest up slightly with each breath. Finally after what seemed forever, Neal began to breath on his own, Peter sensing a give as he moved away, curling up on the floor near his friend. He only looked up from Neal's unconscious form when he saw something on the floor some feet away. It was a cell phone. Peter dragged himself towards it but found it wouldn't get a signal so it was useless. He sighed quietly to himself in frustration, wondering why Neal was here alone.

Peter turned back to his friend and saw that the light was still green on the anklet. This must be within his two mile radius. If he were to remove the anklet... but he didn't have the key. It was back at the Bureau locked up in his office. Peter cursed silently before he saw the other item on the floor. He dragged himself towards it, half crawling and picking it up. He made his way back towards his friend and lifted Neal's left leg, using the Kbar to cut through the plastic. It was like a hot knife through butter as he used the blade to remove the anklet. The light promptly turned red and beeped at him as he felt his energy waning once again. He curled up near his partner and tried once again to wake him. Neal didn't budge, ragged breathing evident now.

_Neal... wake up! Please..._

Peter pleaded in silence, eyes closing as he felt exhaustion from his little bit of movement. His wounds stung but he wasn't thinking of himself as he tried to remain conscious, his breath loud in his own ears. He could hear his pulse pounding in his head as he lay there, what sounded like sirens coming closer. He thought he heard voices and the squeal of tires coming to a stop outside. Feet pounded on loose wooden floor boards as he felt them approach the room and someone touched him gently on the shoulder.

"Peter? Oh my God... we found him! Caffrey's here too. How did he... SOMEONE CALL A MEDIC! We have men down here!" The voice was familiar and he felt a relieved sense of calm fall over him as he passed out.

**oOoOoOo**

**Author Note: **_This was a ficlet from my Menagerie drabbles. I think this will work as a longer story. Let me know what you think. Thanks to Marauding Snitch for the kind comments._


	2. Chapter 2

**(Chapter 2)**

_He was dreaming. his mind filled with panic, pulse racing, breath coming hard._

"_I'm getting on that plane, Peter._"

He had turned to look at the agent who was nodding at him as he moved towards the waiting plane. He could see Kate there, his feet moving deliberately towards the craft, Kate smiling through the window as he approached. He was just about to go up the stairs when a hand touched his sleeve.

"_Neal, I can't let you go. Think about everything you're leaving behind. You have friends here. Please reconsider..._" Peter's voice was pleading with him which was odd. Neal turned to look at the agent, surprised he was still there.

"_Peter, I can't... don't make me choose._" He pulled away from the agent reluctantly, stepping inside the small jet as he saw Kate sitting there in the front seat by the door. She rose to hug him, her blue eyes looking just past him briefly at the Fed. Neal felt tension in her body at Peter's presence, the younger man turning after a moment to see his friend had entered the plane behind him. The agent was looking around curiously, something odd in his manner.

"_Peter, everything is legit. I'm going. We're going._" He was holding Kate beside him, an arm wrapped protectively around her as he watched Peter looking around the craft.

"_I know... I just hoped..._" There was a soft '_popping_' sound and suddenly Neal saw a dark stain growing on Peter's chest beneath his beige coat. The agent's face held surprise as it was drained of all color and Peter collapsed to the floor.

"_Peter?_" Neal pulled away from Kate looking down at his friend as he move towards him. A shadowy form disappeared into the cockpit, door slamming shut. Peter was breathing hard, Neal holding him as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"_Call 9-1-1, Kate... Please!_" His voice had turned desperate as he shook his friend and tried to keep him alive. He turned and looked up to see Kate just staring at him oddly.

"_Kate... call 9-1-1!_" He didn't mean to yell but Peter was dying and she wasn't reacting, her blue eyes looking down at him sadly. She shook her head.

"_I can't, Neal. You know that._" She didn't smile or frown, her face a mask he couldn't read. Neal reached in his pocket to pull out his cell when he felt it. Suddenly the door was closed and he could feel the plane moving.

"_We can't go! STOP THE PLANE!_" Neal was frantic now, fumbling for his phone while trying to figure out what was going on. Why was the plane leaving when Peter was dying in his arms? He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"_Neal, you have to let him go. We'll start a new life away from this one. Trust me._" Kate was looking down at him with those beautiful eyes he always found so innocent and trusting. Now he only saw deceit, his anger rising as he turned to look at Peter.

"_No... I can't. Not like this. STOP THE PLANE!_" Neal stood up, dragging Peter over to a nearby seat and laying the agent's limp body against the window. He moved to the cockpit and banged on the door with his fists finally running at the door and smashing it open.

The cockpit was empty, nobody at the controls. He could see the plane taxi-ing down the runway and begin to lift into the air as he felt confusion wash over him. If nobody was flying the plane, then how... He turned as he heard Kate call his name.

"_Neal, you can't have it both ways. You have to choose: This life or ours. Which is it?_" She was looking at him without emotion, his eyes moving from her figure to the limp one on the seat behind her.

How could he choose when he was so unsure. He stood there a moment trying to figure out what to do when he saw her brow furrow to a frown.

"_I'm sorry, Neal..._" He was about to ask her what it was she was sorry for when a flash of light exploded from the back of the plane. He saw the fire shoot forward and engulf the whole interior as it grasped everything in its path and swallowed it in a blaze of orange. Neal covered his face seeing both Peter and Kate taken by the explosion as the cockpit detached and fell towards the earth with only him inside. He was screaming, reaching out for Kate and Peter but the cockpit door closed, cutting him off as he continued his descent.

"_Noooooo!_" He was yelling, his breath sticking in his throat, heart racing as he started to come to.

**()()()**

Elizabeth Burke sat in the waiting room of the hospital waiting to hear how her husband was. She had been gone the week he was taken, her business sending her out of state for a few days. She had returned just before the weekend to find Peter gone and no signs that he had been around for some days. Satchmo had been fed by Neal, she found out when the young man showed up unexpectedly after she had. She remembered their conversation clearly.

**oOoOoOo**

"Neal, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Peter?" El had been surprised that he was there and even more that he had Peter's keys. She recognized the key-chain immediately but she was less than suspicious than she was surprised. Peter rarely gave his keys to anyone but Neal wasn't just anyone. The young man looked a bit nervous as if he were hiding something.

"I... Peter asked me to check on Satchmo. He's been on a stakeout and couldn't come check himself." Neal's manner was charming enough but she could sense that he was lying about something, she just wasn't sure what and she knew that if Peter found out he would be angry.

"Neal, I know you're lying. Tell me the truth. I don't want to have to explain anything to Peter, especially why you have his keys when he's obviously at work. Now tell me what's going on." El had suddenly turned on her most motherly tone, something that only seemed to happen with Neal, his expression changing quickly to that of a little boy caught with his hands in the cookie jar. She watched him shift his weight nervously, his eyes watching her as if anticipating something. Finally he shrugged his shoulders in defeat and motioned for her to come sit with him on the sofa.

"I... you only just got back so you wouldn't have heard yet. Hughes was waiting to say something but didn't think it would be appropriate till we had all the details. I wanted to call you right away but even Mozz said we should wait. I'm sorry I have to tell you this..." Neal's voice had gone quiet, his manner suddenly tense if not worried. He looked like he was about to tell her the worse news ever, El's intuition bracing her for the worse.

"Is this about Peter?" She had barely blurted the words from her lips when she finally understood what she had said herself. It had just popped out without her thinking about it, her worse nightmares starting to come to life. Neal put her hand in his and nodded without looking directly at her, his manner guilty she thought as she waited for the bad news.

"Peter... he's been kidnapped. I'm sorry El. I'm so sorry." His voice was trembling as he let go of her hand and stood, pacing the floor and finally pausing at the front door. El just sat there trying to take it all in when she noticed him reaching for the knob. He was just going to tell her Peter had been kidnapped and go? There had to be more to this. She stood and quickly grasped his arm in her hand, the young man standing frozen as she did so. She felt the tension there, that same guilty expression on his face as he turned to look at her. She saw tears in his eyes and suddenly she was holding him in her arms tightly. He didn't hold her back but she clung to him, the last person who had seen her husband.

"Tell me he's ok, Neal. Please..." She buried her face in his shoulder and felt warm tears falling there but he still didn't move, his arms at his side as she continued to hold him. Finally he moved and she felt his hand gently move her face upwards, their eyes meeting.

"I was hoping someone could tell me the same thing. They haven't... they haven't called with their demands yet." His voice cracked ever so slightly, El nodding in understanding as she let go of him and moved away. She went back to the sofa and sat down, leaning against the cushions and feeling emotionally numb. After a moment she felt Neal sit beside her, turning to see his blue eyes peering at her curiously.

"Please don't hate me, El. I... " She shook her head and smiled despite everything. What else could she do but forgive him. It wasn't his fault and she knew that would be the case when she talked to Hughes. Neal always took things so seriously and blamed himself when the ones he loved were hurt. In many ways he was like Peter. Peter... She bit her lip to keep from crying, pulling the cell from her purse and dialing a number.

"Reese Hughes Please..." It didn't escape her notice that Neal's face had paled ever so much as she made the call. She watched him start to rise but held his arm gently, his shoulders slumping as he realized she wasn't going to let him leave.

**oOoOoOo**

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone gently squeezing her shoulder. Elizabeth looked up and saw Diana standing there in the waiting room, the agent slipping into a nearby seat.

"Diana, I didn't see you come in." She wasn't sure what else to say, her mind still on the memory of that first day she found out Peter had been kidnapped. The agent seemed to understand completely.

"Not long. I was just going to tell you that they said Peter is doing better and they've placed him in a room. They're still waiting for info on Neal. It's still touch and go." Her voice was quiet, gentle but El knew Diana cared for her husband more than as a colleague. They were friends and he was like a mentor to her, the reason she had come back to New York in the first place. She was often jealous of the fact her husband worked with women but she knew that Diana was different. It wasn't just her manner but her attitude that told her no matter what, she respected Peter professionally and nothing more. She smiled softly, nodding at the younger woman.

"Thanks for the update. I've been waiting for the nurse to come back but must have spaced out. So I can see Peter now?" She turned to her husband's colleague hopefully. Diana smiled and nodded.

"Let me take you up there. We have a guard on his room and Neal's so let me get you a visitor's pass first."

**()()()**

Elizabeth Burke stepped into the sterile hospital room unsure what to expect. She knew very little of what had happened to Peter beyond his captors having mistreated him. She wasn't sure what she was going to see but was glad when she walked into the room and found her husband apparently sleeping, his face calmer than expected. Some of her tension left as she approached his bedside and gently took his hand in hers. She saw his torso almost entirely wrapped in bandages and gauze. What little had been left unwrapped was marred with small scratches and bruising that made her wince at the thought of someone doing this to her husband. Peter wouldn't hurt anyone. He upheld the law but she realized now that no matter what position he took in the Bureau, he would never be safe from the dangers she feared. This just confirmed her worries.

"Peter, it's El." She held his hand in hers and gently caressed it. She noticed the stitches along his hairline from some head injury and a bruise that looked like someone had stuck him with a needle near his neck. She tried not to look but couldn't help but wonder who would have done this and why. His job wasn't supposed to be this dangerous. She sighed tiredly, continuing to hold her husband's hand in hers as she leaned forward against the mattress edge and closed her eyes.

She sat up when she felt his hand twitch in hers and saw his eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed lids. A low groan came from his throat, his dry cracked lips parting ever so slightly but no sound escaped them. El gently wiped a few stray hairs from his forehead, caressing his hair and speaking softly.

"It's ok, Peter. You're safe." She continued to talk to him till she felt his hand close around hers tightly and his eyes began to flutter open, slowly, cautiously. His brown eyes were shiny as if with fever, languidly glancing from right to left and finally falling upon her with surprise. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but a soft gasp of air. El watched his eyes move to the nightstand where a glass and pitcher of water sat. She nodded, pouring water into the glass and then helping him sit up as she helped him drink it.

"Slowly, Peter. Take it easy." She kept holding his hand, his grasping hers as if she might leave. She smiled softly at her husband and he seemed to calm down a bit as he finished the water and coughed, clearing his throat and licking at his dry lips.

"El..." His voice was raspy and hoarse but he had said her name. She smiled and nodded back.

"I heard you, Peter. What is it? Did you need something?" She had placed the glass back on the nightstand and was gently caressing his hair again, his manner calmer now.

"El... where..." He coughed, a phlegmy sound that made her worry. She reached for the nurse call and pushed it as she tried to settle him.

"Someone's coming to help, Peter. Just relax. I'm here." She felt him squeeze her hand in response, body tensing as he arched his back as if he were in pain. His brown eyes closed a moment then reopened, his glance falling on her as he smiled ever so slightly. He kept coughing as she waited and finally heard the door open.

"You pushed the button? What seems to be the... that doesn't sound good." A nurse in light blue scrubs shook her head as she made her way closer to the bed. She had a stethoscope around her neck and promptly pushed the ends into her ears as she pushed the circular part onto Peter's chest. She told him in gentle tones to breath in and out slowly, holding the breath off and on as he could. She carefully leaned him forward with El's help and listened to his back. Finally they shifted him back against the mattress and the nurse walked over to a shelf and pulled something out.

"He has a minor infection. Possibly a cold. Are you his wife?" The nurse finished pulling out the needle and bottle and walked over with the needle in hand. Elizabeth nodded at the last query.

"My name is Nancy. Wherever your husband was, it was damp and moldy. We had to make sure his wounds were carefully cleaned of debris before bandaging him. So far he's had no infections. He's strong but we noticed he was gasping for breath which shows signs of a lung infection. I'm going to add some antibiotic to his IV until we get a full drip. The doctor will come talk to you soon. Let me know if you need anything." The nurse was nice enough, a soft smile not just professional on her face. She looked worried about Peter as much as El was.

The nurse finished up with the needle and grabbed another one soon after, taking several small draws and bottling them before she left. Peter had kept his eyes closed for much of the examination, but opened them when he heard the door shut.

"I'm still here, honey. It's over for now. She was just taking blood to see what's wrong with you. How are you feeling?" She saw him look at her and nod his head slightly.

"Better... How's Neal?" His eyes betrayed his worry for the younger man, El unsure what to tell him. She had heard very little except for what Diana had mentioned about them trying to stabilize him. She shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know, Peter. Diana said they were still working on him. I'm sure he'll be ok. He's strong." She was smiling some for his benefit and her own. It was because of Neal they had found Peter.

It had been three weeks since she found out her husband had been taken and the ex-con had found him with his own methods. Hughes hadn't been happy when it was discovered but he was glad to know his agent was ok and worried about Neal's well being as well. They had very few leads to work on officially and somehow Neal had managed to break through and find the agent, his friend and partner. Methods didn't matter at this point but he was understandingly upset the young man had gone in alone. Regardless he understood the reasons even if he didn't like the manner.

Peter nodded, sitting up with some effort and kissing her. She could feel the split in his lip and the dryness, reaching into her purse and pulling out her lip balm.

"Here... I think this will help." She was smiling a bit more now, Peter making a bit of a face as he saw what she was doing.

"It's pink, El." He wasn't really begrudging the item but just being himself, El smiling.

"Yes but it brings out your eyes, dear." She winked at him as she smoothed the waxy lotion onto his lips with her fingers. It seemed to improve his lips almost immediately. He smiled back.

"Thanks, honey. I'm sorry... for all of this." He turned his face from hers and stared to his right. She gently caressed his cheek and kissed it.

"It's not your fault, Peter. I know your work can be dangerous. I'm just glad you're safe. I'm glad Neal found you. I think you're about even now on rescuing one another." She playfully batted his arm, his brown eyes looking up at her with honest concern.

"Yeah... It's funny how I can always find him and vice versa. I wish someone could tell me how he is. Maybe when the doctor comes in. I really need to know. He stopped breathing when I woke up. I had to do CPR on him and then cut his anklet to get them to find us. I wish he had brought Jones or someone with him but he always has to do things on his own." He sounded angry a moment then sighed and smiled.

"I'm not angry at him..." His voice trailed off as he remembered how pale the young man had looked. He wondered what those men had given his partner to cause such a reaction. El hugged him gently and lay her head on his shoulder.

"He'll be ok and so will you. We'll get through this."


	3. Chapter 3

**(Chapter 3 - almost a month ago...)**

Peter rolled his eyes as his friend, partner and consultant rattled on about how great the restaurant they'd just gone to was. He had found it ok but really, it was just another snobby type place to him. Anything you had to have a translator help you pronounce was probably too pretentious to be eaten in the first place and should immediately be set free and given a proper name. Still, Neal kept raving how great he thought the place was and the wine selection and how Peter should bring El there for their next big event or anniversary.

The agent nodded patiently, pulling out his keys as they made their way down the block and towards the Taurus. The place was only a few days old and with Elizabeth out of town, Peter had decided to placate Neal's childish requests to check the place out seeing that it was out of his radius. Peter walked around to the street side of the vehicle and pushed the key into the door. Neal stood on the other side waiting, still excited like a little kid come back from a day at the zoo.

Neal and his restaurants. Peter smiled to himself unlocking the doors and hearing the other side open. He was about to slip inside when someone grabbed him from behind, a foul smelling rag pressed against his mouth and nose, another arm holding his to his sides tightly. The keys fell from his hand with a loud rattle to the asphalt below, Neal turning to see what was wrong.

"Peter!" Neal started to make a move to help his friend from the masked man but paused when he felt cold metal pressed against the back of his neck. Another hand yanked back his head by the hair and held him tight, gun cocking audibly.

"We need to borrow your agent friend there. You'll send our regards to the FBI, won't you?" Peter heard the man speak, the voice unfamiliar but it didn't matter as he watched the gun smashed against the back of Neal's head, the younger man collapsing against the car. He was only vaguely aware of what went on around him, the sound of someone hissing commands to another as he felt the drug in the rag start to take effect, his struggles growing less active.

_Throw me his handcuffs! Quickly!_

_We'll just leave him here for someone to find and then let everything fall into place..._

The voices disappeared into the haziness from the drug as it took effect and he started to slump back against the man that held him. He was only vaguely aware of Neal laying there stunned, unable to move but seeing the other masked man cuff his partner's hands to the steering wheel and lock them into place as the driver's side door was shut.

_He'll get free. Trust me and then all we have to do is wait. Let's go!_

Peter heard the cuffs rattle, knowing Neal was struggling as he fought to wake up, to help him but he was too tired, his body giving into the fuzzy feeling in his head and soon he was completely unconscious.

**()()()**

Neal woke up to the sound of sirens and the feeling that someone was pulling on his wrists as they tried to free them.

"He's out cold. That goose egg on the back of his head doesn't look good. Are the paramedics here yet?" The voice was feminine and familiar, Neal daring to open his eyes and look now that he was more or less conscious. Besides the throbbing of his head and the ringing in his ears, the sirens and loud voices of the officers and Feds just added to his already hung over feeling.

"Di... ana... got an aspirin?" Neal squeaked, his voice tinny to him and yet still too loud it made him wince. He felt the person sitting in the front seat stop a moment, and he saw the young agent looking down at him curiously.

"Neal? You're conscious! Sorry..." She apologized when she saw him react to her voice. She gently caressed his forehead, placing something soft under his head once he felt his wrists freed. He had the sense of other people moving around, peering down at him but she blocked them out for the most part, running interference as she watched over him, something he never thought she would do.

"Diana, how's Caffrey?" Jone's voice rung out a bit loudly for his liking but at least he knew some familiar faces were here to help. He sensed someone peer down at him and looked up at the blurry figure above.

"Hey, Neal. How's the head? Paramedics should be here soon. Do you remember what happened?" Jones leaned against the driver's side door, just over Diana who sat back in the seat between them. Neal shook his head then regretted it feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. Diana seemed to understand as she helped him scoot out the passenger side. Neal slid out of the vehicle as if he had no bones, his limbs still refusing to do much as he lay on the pavement beside the Taurus and began to throw up. His cheek leaned on the curb of the sidewalk, face towards the street as he vomited, someone talking quietly and holding him gently. Soon nothing more could come out and Neal just slumped in their arms, whoever it was gently sitting him up against he vehicle some feet from the mess. It was Diana.

"You ok, Neal? Jones how much longer till... wait I think I see the lights of the ambulance. Get them over here now!" She barked out and the other agent nodded in reply. Neal didn't mind the loud noises anymore, his consciousness starting to slip back into the darkness as he slumped to one side, eyes closing.

It was a hard slap that brought him back to awareness, his hand slowly reaching up to touch his burning cheek as he saw an apologetic look from Diana.

"I'm sorry Caffrey but it was that or a punch and I don't think you want me punching you. I have a mean right." She smiled at him and he felt himself try to smile back although he could imagine it was more a drunken grin than anything in his current state. He didn't try to speak or nod after that, his vision blurring in and out of focus on the agent.

"Neal, stay with me. The paramedics are coming." Diana's voice echoed in his brain as if from far away in the deepest reaches of a cavern. He blinked in response but his body was starting to shut down, his eyes closing regardless of her threats.

_Neal... Neal wake up!_

He felt another slap but didn't react, his body refusing to respond as darkness overcame him.

**()()()**

Peter woke up with a horrible headache, the sound of something metallic rattling nearby. He winced at the sound but that only seemed to make the rattling louder. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking up at the metal rafters of a warehouse roof. The agent tried to sit up or move but heard the rattling again, finally realizing he was the source. He moved his eyes to glance upwards over his head and saw both wrists manacled to a large wooden table as was the rest of his body. He tried to wiggle free but everything was secure and tight.

"Looks like someone's finally awake. Shall we begin?" The voice was vaguely familiar, Peter moving his eyes towards the masked figure that stood off to his right. He notice several other figures moving in the background, his vision still blurry and out of focus. The figure smiled and removed the mask. Peter felt a chill wash over him as he realized who it was.

"Surprised? Make sure he's secure before we start..." The man spoke curtly to the other masked figures around him. He was a tall man, 6'2" maybe with straight caramel brown hair that was cut short and chocolate brown eyes that glittered coldly down at Peter. The man smiled through thin flesh colored lips, his face a light olive tone that was enhanced by the light brown suit he wore, Armani or such Peter thought as he remembered Neal wearing something similar. Neal... he wondered how his partner was doing. Where was he? Had they taken him? His memory was fuzzy.

"Worrying about your CONsultant? He's fine for the moment. His part of the plan isn't yet in play. But you... Agent Burke, (_he clucked his tongue_) you my friend, I can call you friend can't I? We've known of each other a long time although you've been less than forthcoming in getting to know me. Spying... surveillance... I would almost think you were stalking me if not investigating what I do. I guess I should be used to it in my line of business but I really wonder if you ever discovered why nobody has taken me down? The last investigator was placed in a mental institution after killing his partner. The one before that... well I don't know if you'd be willing to strangle your wife in a drug induced haze but maybe it could be arranged."

The man smiled coldly down at him, Peter struggling against his bonds at the mention of Elizabeth. He was glad she was still out of town. She was safer that way at the moment he thought. Jones and crew would make sure she was safe regardless. He didn't have to worry about that should he never see her again.

"So I was introducing myself. I believe you know my name: Randall Friscinetti, heir to one of the biggest mob families. I believe your boss put a few of my father's men away at one time or another but never pinned anything directly on my dear departed father. It's a shame he found his way into that cement mixer but I guess he wasn't much into manifest destiny as I was. So... let's get started, shall we?" The man made a motion and the figures in black moved closer, a large glass tank of water like a huge water cooler pulled nearby and tubing like you see for aquarium pumps attached to a nozzle.

"I always found the idea of drowning just a wee bit disturbing. I can swim like a fish but some people, well they don't do so well with water." Randall motioned again and Peter saw one of the masked figures hover over him, slowly shoving the two small plastic tubes roughly up his nostrils. The agent struggled and fought but he was held fast, his head in a kind of vice that held him nearly immobile. The tubing finally pushed through to where his sinuses met with his throat. He felt the tape pulled from his lips, the rags removed and another figure pushed something into his mouth that held it open. It looked like something his dentist would use if they were doing work. The mobster smiled and clapped his hands.

"And now the fun part. Turn it on." Those brown eyes sparkled with dark interest as Peter tried to figure out what was going on. A figure turned a knob on the opposite end of the water cooler and he was only just aware of water moving down the tubing and approaching the ends stuck in his nose. Peter struggled as he realized what was going to happen but it was useless. He could only anticipate as the cool liquid started to enter the tubing near his nose and then entered his sinuses making him gag as it poured down his throat. He tried to swallow, some of it reaching his windpipe and making him cough as he fought to keep from gagging, mouth stuck open.

"I wonder how long you'll last like this. I could watch all day but I'll give you a few hours to think about messing with my affairs before the next exciting game. Watch him!" Friscinetti smiled and waved as he walked away, Peter struggling to breath as the water eased through his nose to his open mouth through the back of his throat.

**()()()**

_Neal was yelling Peter's name before someone pulled his head back roughly by the hair, something cold and metallic pressed against the back of his neck. He wanted to help his friend but couldn't with the threat of being shot. He watched as the other masked man held Peter at bay, a cloth pressed tightly across the agent's mouth as he struggled to get free. Their eyes met only briefly before he heard the man holding him speak softly in his ear and then a cracking sound. Everything went hazy as he collapsed against the cool exterior of the Taurus and felt someone catch him, pushing him inside the vehicle. His hands were pulled up over his head and he felt cool metal rattle as it wrapped tightly around each wrist. Neal pulled weakly as he tried to stay conscious but ended up passing out._

He woke up in a cold sweat, face dripping, hair clinging to the sides of his face and forehead. He sat up and soon regretted it, laying back down and wondering if he would ever get over what caused this hangover. That's when he noticed he wasn't in his room or his bed for that matter. He was in a thin hospital robe, a thin flannel blanket pulled over him as he lay in an unfamiliar but very sterile looking room. Neal tried to remember what could have happened to bring him to a hospital. He had been out with Peter for a meal when everything after that went hazy. He knew he had just been dreaming about something significant but what it was escaped him. He turned when the door to the room opened on his left, Neal shifting his weight as he tried to sit up a bit for whomever was visiting.

A familiar face peered into the room, Neal blinking as he saw June smiling back at him.

"How are you feeling today, Neal?" June's voice was soft, her feet barely making noise as she walked quietly across the floor to his side. He was surprised to see her but figured someone from the Bureau had called her.

"Feel a bit out of it. Why am I here? My mind's a bit fuzzy." Neal could remember only a hint of pain and something else but then it all went blank. June looked at him as if unsure what to say when the door opened again, quietly and Diana popped her head in.

"He's awake. Hey Neal." She whispered remembering how he had been before. He nodded thankfully that everyone was being so quiet with his head aching. Both women stood on either side of the bed and he got the feeling whatever they needed to tell him, it wasn't good.

"What's going on? I don't remember much but my head hurts." He leaned back against the pillows, June helping to fluff them up so he could sit better while Diana glanced at him curiously.

"Neal, how much of what happened do you recall? You've been out for 18 hours." She spoke matter of factly and he blinked at her. 18 hours? He'd been out that long? What had happened? Where was Peter and why wasn't he here? He was about to ask when Diana guessed his question.

"It's about Peter. You saw him get taken, didn't you? They knocked you out and left you behind. There were witnesses but all they remember were two masked men and a black sedan that pulled up and took one of you away. When we arrived on the scene, you were the only one there. Peter was missing and still is." Her voice ended on a worried note, Neal feeling a tightness in his chest and shoulders at the news. Peter was missing? He felt June hug him gently a moment, her face worried over the news.

"I meant to tell you, Neal but I wasn't sure if I was allowed to. Diana said I could come in and visit for a bit. I just wanted to be sure you were ok." She looked guiltily at him but he smiled and grasped her hand in his.

"It's alright. I don't know why... I can't remember. I was just having a dream too but the details are fuzzy. Peter... he was in it I know." He furrowed his brow trying to recall what he had dreamed but the memory refused to come to him. June patted him gently on the shoulder and smiled.

"It's ok, Neal. It will come back to you soon. It's still early." She gave him a little kiss on the brow. He blushed slightly, Diana smirking a little.

"So, Peter is missing. Any leads on the black sedan?" Neal moved slightly as he tried to get comfy, his head hurting a bit less, a the new pain in his chest where he knew he was worrying about his partner. El was still out of town till Friday and he wondered if she had been contacted yet. It was only Tuesday... He saw Diana shake her head.

"I guess you could call it a burner car of sorts. Stripped down totally in a very bad part of the city. No identifying marks other than one little item we found interesting." She pulled a small file out of the bag he hadn't notice she carried till now. Diana wasn't a purse person so he hadn't been looking hard to find one but she currently had a small, black leather messenger bag over her shoulder, pulling a blue folder out and showing him a photo inside.

"See here... the witnesses said they saw this symbol on the car. We found one discarded near the abandoned vehicle. Ever seen anything like this before? We know it's an icon like those Christian fish you see on car bumpers but this one seems customized." Neal held the picture and looked at the odd creation in plastic and chrome and tried to puzzle it out.

"Odd symbol indeed. I haven't seen it before but I could ask around once I'm out of here. Anything else to say who took Peter?" He had hoped this wasn't the only clue but she shook her head sadly.

"Nothing. He's just gone. I wasn't supposed to be here but Hughes forgot to add June to the list of people authorized to visit you. He sent me to make sure she got a pass on my way back to the office. What you just saw... between you and me. Jones hasn't seen it yet but he's been out on the street hitting the pavement in hopes of finding some clues to Peter's whereabouts. He'll see it soon enough." She looked at June who made an understanding nod.

"I've kept a secret or two in my time. I have nobody to tell anyway. Who would listen to a doddering old woman." She winked at the both of them, a chuckle escaping Neal's throat. Diana smiled.

"Well, I will leave you two to your visit. Call me if you need anything, Neal or find anything out." She reached into her bag and pulled his phone out. He smiled as she handed it to him.

"Found it on the street by the scene. Must have fallen out of your pocket. Talk to you later." She smiled at the both of them before exiting the room. June watched the door a moment then turned her attention back to Neal who was looking at the phone, eyes fixed on the cracked but still operational screen.

"Neal..." Her voice was firm but soft, drawing his attention back to her. She sat down beside him on the chair by the bed and smiled at him.

"All we can do is have faith. I'm sure Peter will be ok. It's only been a few hours. Rest and get better." She hugged him lightly, planting a small kiss on his forehead making him blush like a little boy. She chuckled.

"I left a bag with Diana last night and she left it there." June pointed at the small overnight bag on the floor near the bed.

"It has some of your favorite clothes. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything. Ok?" She ruffled his hair and he blushed again, smiling.

"Thanks June. I really appreciate it." He watched her smile back and then grasp his hand in hers one last time before going. The door clicked quietly closed and Neal lay alone in the bland white room. He looked at the subtle attempt to spruce it up but the artwork lacked any originality. He'd seen better florals in a kindergarten class. Neal sighed to himself, rolling over onto his side and curling up as he stared at the window across the room.

It was hard to know that Peter was out there somewhere being held prisoner by some unknown persons. He hoped it wasn't anyone from his past as he chewed on his lip. Neal closed his eyes and tried to think back to the dream he was having when he woke up. Peter had been in it and he had been calling his partner's name when he woke up but what was it he had seen? Was it a memory or a dream?

Neal felt his mind start to wander off into a half-doze as he tried to piece what little of the dream he could think of.

_Neal was yelling Peter's name before someone pulled his head back roughly by the hair, something cold and metallic pressed against the back of his neck. He wanted to help his friend but couldn't with the threat of being shot. He watched as the other masked man held Peter at bay, a cloth pressed tightly across the agent's mouth as he struggled to get free. Their eyes met only briefly before he heard the man holding him speak softly in his ear and then a cracking sound. Everything went hazy as he collapsed against the cool exterior of the Taurus and felt someone catch him, pushing him inside the vehicle. His hands were pulled up over his head and he felt cool metal rattle as it wrapped tightly around each wrist. Neal pulled weakly as he tried to stay conscious but ended up passing out._

Neal's eyes popped open a few minutes later. The dream had come back to him clearly. He remembered now. It wasn't just a nightmare. It had actually happened! He and Peter had gone to the restaurant but had parked far enough away because of the opening week crowd. They had parked around the corner from the actual restaurant so it had been deserted enough to hide anything but from the few passers by. Neal had only noticed something was wrong when he heard Peter's keys fall to the street. He had been excited about their meal, having enjoyed the atmosphere. Now he was panicking as he saw his friend in danger. He was about to move when someone grabbed at his hair hard and held him firm with a gun.

The more he thought about what he dreamed the more details came through. He had seen the car skulking across the street, the one they had found abandoned and stripped. It had the same symbol on it Diana had showed him. He could see the plates but not the actual letters or numbers. He saw shadows inside, the windows tinted. He remembered a tattoo or something on the neck of the man who held Peter, hard to see clearly in the dim glow of the street light. He was seeing things now he didn't see before, his head aching as the memories returned. Neal grabbed his phone and dialed a number.

"_June said you were in the hospital. You need me to break you out?_" Mozzie sounded serious, his voice quiet. Neal smiled to himself before he answered.

"No, I'm good. I need you to look something up for me." Neal spoke quietly as he reached over to the nightstand, pulled a pad and pen from there and started to draw the symbol he'd seen in his dream and had been in the picture Diana showed him. He quickly snapped a shot and texted it to Mozz.

"_Got it. What is this? Looks like some kitschy car emblem..._" Mozz sounded interested and annoyed all at once, Neal smiling to himself.

"Not sure. I've never seen it before either but it was on what was left of the car that took Peter. He's missing and I need to find him." Neal waited as he heard movement on the other end then a quiet sigh.

"_Will do but just because you asked me to. How's Elizabeth taking this?_" Mozz didn't know that El was out of town till Friday, Neal biting his lip a bit.

"Well... she doesn't. She's out of town and it's only been 18 or so hours since this happened. I'm not sure they've contacted her yet and probably won't till they have something definitive." His voice had lowered a bit, anger in his tone at the thought of El being hurt by this. Mozz must have noticed.

"_I'm sorry, Neal. I'll get on this right away. Get better, ok?_" Mozz sounded quieter, almost solemn it seemed. Neal nodded at the phone and they hung up. He pushed the phone back onto the nightstand and lay back against the mattress tiredly.

_Where are you Peter?_

**()()()**

It was Wednesday afternoon when Neal pushed open the door to his rooms and smiled. He was home again. He ached a bit but he had been found well and given a clean bill of health. It was nice to be out of the hospital and free to do what he needed to do. He asked June if she had heard anything about El but she just shook her head.

"Nothing yet. Diana stopped by before they released you and left you this note. I think it's important." She handed the folded paper to him and excused herself, closing the door and heading downstairs. He heard her footsteps vanish into the distance as he walked over to his bed, dropped the bag by the nightstand then sat on the edge and opened up the paper.

_**Neal,**_

_**Hughes wants to talk to you. Be at the Bureau on Thursday at 9 am sharp.**_

_**Diana**_

He glanced at the note a moment, rereading it once before he pushed it into his pocket startled when he heard a soft jingle. He was wearing the same jacket he'd worn the night of the incident. He pulled the item out of his pocket and found a set of car and house keys. They were attached to a small basketball key-chain he was more than familiar with.

"Peter's keys... why do I have his keys?" He thought about this, remembering they had been dropped when they were attacked. He tried to think how they would have ended up in his pocket when a flash of memory hit him.

_He was laying in the front seat, Diana was behind him on the driver's side something hanging from her pocket. He deftly took the item without thinking about it, the shiny mass of metal too pretty for his hazy mind to ignore. She never notice him pocket the keys, distracted when he felt nauseated and scooted out the other end to throw up._

"I stole his keys from Diana? Why would I do that?" He was trying to think why when he remembered Satchmo. Did anyone think to check on the Burkes' dog? He felt a sudden pang of guilt, standing up and pocketing the keys yet again. He walked over to the door and exited the room, quietly making his way down the stairs. June peeked out from the dining room to see him trying to sneak away.

"Neal?" Her voice was questioning in a manner that made him think of a mother catching their child leaving without permission. She normally didn't say anything but he had just been released from the hospital and without Peter around she felt responsible. He stopped and turned.

"I just need some fresh air. I'll be back soon. I'm going to walk to the park. If Diana or anyone else calls: _I'm at the park._" He hoped she believed him. She smiled and nodded, looking back at him curiously.

"Be careful."

**()()()**

Neal paid the cabbie and walked the last few yards to the Burkes' home. He looked down at his tracker and saw it was still set up for the other night when he was with Peter. They hadn't changed his range yet so he had only a little window to take care of things before he would possibly be in trouble. He probably should have talked to Jones or Diana but they were busy looking for Peter so he didn't think about bothering them with Satchmo.

He walked up the few steps, pulled the keys from his pocket and pushed one into the lock. He was immediately greeted by a large yellow blur that looked ecstatic to see anyone even a burglar at this point. He braced himself and smiled then frowned, covering his nose.

"Satch... ugh... you smell. Come on silly dog. It's not your fault but ugh..." He could smell pee and something else and was glad he was wearing jeans and a dark tee. He put the lead on the dog and took him into the backyard pulling out the water hose and spraying the dog down. Satchmo looked happy as he did it, jumping around in the spray but then standing still when Neal took off his jacket and draped it over the patio table as he found some doggie soap in an outside box and started to wash the dog off. Soon Satchmo was his sparkling sweet smelling doggy self, Neal almost as wet as the dog was as he rinsed him off. Satch shook the last of the water off before Neal could run in and get a towel to dry him off. It took a few minutes but he got the dog dry enough to go back inside once he had let him do his business, cleaning off his feet.

It didn't take long to find out where Satch had done his business inside. Luckily Peter or El had trained him to go in the basement, the door open and the whiff of urine and other stuff wafting up. Neal managed to scoop it all up, clean the basement floor and spray it down with some bleach before he went back upstairs, closed the door and put some food and water out for the big lab. Satch looked happy as he ate. Neal felt sorry for the dog with all that happened and petted the large lab as he looked around to make sure there was no other damage he had missed. Apparently the dog hadn't sat on anything he should have and most of the mess he'd made had been in the basement so that was a relief. Last thing Neal needed was Satch to get in trouble for something that wasn't his fault.

Once the dog was properly fed and watered, Neal put his lead on and took him for a long walk around the block. He kept looking at his anklet but so far he was still good. He sighed in relief, finishing the lap and going back to lock up the house, Satch in tow.

"Come on boy. You're going to come with me tonight. You remember Auntie June and Bugsy, right?" He hailed a cab as he finished locking up and pushed the dog inside with him.

"87 Riverside drive."

**()()()**

Satchmo seemed happy at June's, the older woman plying the dog with little treats and watching her Bugsy, a small gray and tan pug play with the bigger yellow Lab.

"I figured you weren't going to the park but how long do you think El will be gone before you can take Satchmo back? I won't be here to watch him tomorrow and the housekeeper is out. I know Bugsy will be with me, I carry him everywhere but what about Satch? I hate to leave him alone." She looked worried, Neal sighing.

"Well I have the meeting early with Hughes so I will have to take him back home before I go. I could lock him in the backyard outside so he can go when he likes or maybe in the basement. He already seems to know that's a safe zone. I really can't think what to do with him. Poor doggy doesn't know what's going on but he's happy enough." Neal scratched behind the dog's ear and his little doggy tongue hung out happily.

"Well, maybe you should call Diana or Jones?" She sounded uncertain and he shook his head.

"They're busy looking for Peter... " Neal tried to think who to ask to watch the Burkes' dog when June smiled.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of him. Mozz is a dog person isn't he?" She looked like she had found the cure for cancer but Neal frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uhm, I know he acts like he likes Bugsy but he's not very good with animals or kids or people for that matter. He can pretend if he wants to but then you start to see that vein bulge on his forehead or his eyes bug out as he gets more tense. I don't think that will work. I may just take Satch to the office. I don't know yet. Let me... I'll think of something. Thanks June." He watched her nod and smile.

"No problem. He can stay as long as he wants. Satch is such a good boy, aren't you?" She kissed the pooch on the forehead before excusing herself a moment to grab dinner for them. Neal continued to sit in the foyer and pet Satchmo, watching Bugsy playfully nip at the larger dog who just smiled back.

"Peter will be back, Satchmo. I know it. We'll find him."

**oOoOoOo**

**Author's Note: **_Long chapter. I know it! Had a lot to catch up between the present and past. Thanks for keeping up! I appreciate all the great reviews and comments!_**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**(Chapter 4 - The Present...)**

Peter worried about his partner, the news that he was still touch and go after three days bothered him. They had the young man in ICU for now, his breathing ragged and heart beat erratic. Neal had found him just like he would always find Neal, but now the young man was fighting for his life. Peter sighed trying not to think about what had happened.

_Hold him down!_

Peter jumped at the sound of a voice in the empty room. El had left to get coffee and hadn't returned yet. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him as the voice spoke again.

_My ancestors were involved with the inquisition. I've learned a lot about making a man speak or breaking him from studying their methods._

He suddenly saw Friscinetti smiling at him, those teeth gleaming evilly. Peter's brow broke out in a cold sweat as he relived those memories against his will, his mind playing the scene out again.

_No..._

Peter felt himself squirm in the hospital bed wanting to remove the IVs and monitor wires and hide somewhere. He wasn't a coward but something had changed in the three weeks or so since he had been caught. Peter couldn't help it, his reaction stronger than his sense of reality as he kept hearing and reliving what happened. He couldn't remember how he ended up in the corner between the sofa and the wall. Someone touched his shoulder as he sat curled up there. Peter was startled, grasping the person's wrist hard and hearing a wincing sound. It took a moment before the memories of his capture receded and he focused on who he was holding.

"Peter... honey, it's ok." El's voice sounded tight, her tone filled with pain. He saw his hand gripping her wrist tightly and let go as he came back to himself, a flush washing his face.

"I'm sorry, El. Forgive me?" His voice sounded tinny as he moved to hold her despite his aching body and tormented mind. It had only been three days now since he'd been rescued and up until now he had been fine. What was so different about today that he was reacting to his capture? He felt stressed, El helping him rise as he noticed two other figures in the room: the nurse from the other day and someone else with a white jacket over blue scrubs.

"It's ok, Peter. Come on and let's get you back into bed." She helped him walk, his legs feeling like jelly suddenly. He could have hurt his wife if he hadn't come back to himself. Peter tried not to think about it but the guilt of what he could have done bothered him as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed with El and the nurse's assistance. They were easing him back onto it when he gently grasped his wife's wrist and sighed. Her skin was already reddening and bruising slightly where he had held it in his own hand. She blushed but continued to smile at him without reproach.

"It's ok, Peter. Rest, the doctor wants to check on you. I'll be right here." She squeezed his hand in hers gently and he nodded feeling more secure, the past month starting to disappear if only for the meanwhile. His attention turned to the doctor as they walked forward.

"Mr. Burke... how are you feeling?" He was professional if nothing else, trying to ease him into a sense of comfort by not addressing what just happened. Peter knew the tactic since he had often done it with Neal when he was stressed. He never thought he would be on the receiving end.

"Better. I don't... I don't remember leaving my bed." Peter sighed, running his free hand through his hair and wondering how he was going to deal. The doctor nodded, the nurse attaching all the IVs and monitors quickly and quietly in the background. Peter shifted uncomfortably as the needles were pushed into his arm, El continuing to hold his hand soothing him with soft words.

"It's common for those who have gone through a traumatic experience to have this kind of episode. Consider yourself lucky. You seem to have dealt with it fairly well. By the way, I'm Dr. Jacobs." The man held out a hand and Peter took it with a slight nod.

"Thank you doctor. I'm just glad nothing happened. I've never been in this kind of situation at least not on this end." Peter felt a squeeze as El continued to hold his hand in hers, keeping him tethered in the here and now. He smiled up at her, wishing he could take back all that had happened. The doctor continued to smile softly.

"I understand completely; You're a Federal agent. I've worked with the bureau before on a few cases. Hughes asked me to come talk to you, if that's ok." Dr. Jacobs pulled up another chair to sit by Peter who nodded.

"Hughes told me someone was going to come talk to me." Peter didn't say much else, his mind wandering as he tried to think about the implications of what was going on. Hughes was worried about his status enough to call in a pro, someone who dealt with trauma victims. Was that what he was now? He felt strange being on the receiving end. It was oddly unfamiliar.

"Peter?" El's voice broke through his thoughts, noticing the doctor was looking at him questioningly. He had missed something.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Peter felt off his game, lost almost but the doctor just nodded.

"It's ok. I can come back later. I asked if you wanted to talk about what happened." Dr. Jacobs manner was quiet and unobtrusive, Peter already feeling calmer. He shrugged.

"I... heard his voice in my head. Friscinetti. I..." He paused both from his uncertainty on what he should say about the case and his own trepidation in general as to what he had gone through. Dr. Jacobs seemed to understand and nodded.

"Hughes said it was ok for you to discuss the case if that's what you're worried about. I can let you talk to him first to confirm if you like before we continue. Rest, Mr. Burke. I'll come back tomorrow." The doctor nodded at both of them the nurse sticking around a moment after Jacobs left.

"Mr. Burke, I can bring you some food if you're hungry. It's nearly lunchtime. It's also time for your medicine." She smiled lightly at them, El looking at Peter when he didn't answer right away. He finally nodded.

"Sure. I could eat something. El, you're staying right?" He didn't know why but he felt terrified at being alone without his wife. She nodded and gently kissed him on the lips, hugging him.

"Of course dear. I'll be right here as long as you need me." She was hugging him carefully so as to not irritate his already sore back and muscles. He was tense but her touch made him feel a little less nervous as he leaned into her shoulder. The nurse nodded without a word, leaving the room and the couple alone.

**()()()**

_Neal struggled in his sleep, demons from his past and present gathering in his mind to ursurp his sanity._

_**Leave me alone... You're not real! None of this is real!**_

_He was screaming in his dream, his battered mind trying to cope with strange thoughts roaming through it._

_**You never had it in you to play dirty. You couldn't do what it took to get what you wanted. Even Kate...**_

_Keller, he was back with Keller in the abandoned lot on Water Street. He saw his anklet blinking between green and red. The man was pushing his buttons to get him to act. Neal didn't care anymore. He couldn't let the man talk about Kate that way._

_Neal sprang forward, hearing the beep as his anklet turned to red. Keller looked surprised but ready for him, Neal tackling the man to the beam below them as they tumbled down some feet into a small ravine._

"_**I should have killed you when I had a chance!**" Neal said, hitting the man hard, his eyes widening when he saw Keller reach for something in his pocket. Neal acted first, seeing a sharp misshapen rock nearby. He grabbed it and smashed it onto the other man's head, hearing a cracking sound before Keller's eyes went dull and glassy. Neal stood up, body trembling from the adrenaline rush. He felt an oddly unsettling smile form on his lips, curving up as he started to laugh almost hysterically._

"_**Now who can't do what has to be done...**" He spat, a darkness enveloping his spirit as he felt a weird sense of freedom rush over him. Another part of his mind was screaming, feeling terror at what he had done but it was pushed aside as this part of him reveled in what had just occurred._

**oOoOoOo**

Neal's eyes popped open, his body trembling at the thought of what he had done. Had he really killed someone? He could still see Keller's lifeless eyes staring up at him in the dimly lit ravine. He could smell the blood on his hands and hear the cracking of the rock against the con's skull. His heart raced as he tried not to remember but the fantasy of his dream seemed far too real to his hazy mind.

"I couldn't have... that's not me!" He was ranting without realizing it, hearing someone before he felt them approach the bed. He saw strange shapes approaching him and felt a scream stick in his throat as they held him down but in his mind he just saw monsters trying to hurt him. Neal cried out, one of the monsters moving closer and he saw it was Keller.

"_I think we have a little unfinished business, Caffrey..._"

**oOoOoOo**

Neal woke up for real, several hands holding him down, straps being pulled around his body to keep him still in the hospital bed as he twitched and shuddered, a respirator and tubing stuck in his throat and nose. A gurgling sound like someone choking was evident as he tried to speak or scream but couldn't, his eyes staring around him at blurry forms in blue. The monitors were beeping wildly as he struggled and fought against them till they finally injected him with something and his motions became less obvious as the tranquilizer kicked in.

_Don't let him get me... please... _

His voice was silently screaming in his head as he slumped back against the sheets, the nurses and doctors quickly securing him and making sure he was safe.

"It's ok, Mr. Caffrey. You're safe. Just rest." He saw a man who's face he didn't know talking to him.

"Just rest... you'll be ok."

**()()()**

_Neal fell back into his dreams, the tranquilizer making it harder for him to think straight as he fought against the demons lurking in the background of his tortured mind._

_I say we let him see the explosion again. He should have been there too!_

Someone hissed, a mirthless humor to their voice. He shuddered at the thought, his mind fighting to forget the horror of Kate's death.

_His friends die because of him... it's all HIS fault!_

Another mirthless laugh, this voice different from the first.

_He's just another ex-con not worth saving. Peter should know better. Everyone should!_

Neal struggled in his sleep, sweat forming on his brow as he lay strapped to the bed, helpless.

_**No... I didn't... It wasn't my fault. Peter's my friend.**_

He was struggling against the darkness but those voices kept talking, whispering like people behind his back.

_You really think he cares what happens to you? He blames you for everything. He could lose his job because of you... then what?_

The voice laughed evilly, Neal struggling to ignore the words but feeling deep down it was the truth. Everything was his fault. Why did he try to do good? Why bother? He would only hurt more people. He'd already killed Kate and hurt Mozz. He had put Peter and El's lives on the line too for what? Kate was dead. She was gone forever...

_You're selfish, Neal. You can't do what needs to be done and people get hurt. You steal and deceive. That is your lot in life, Neal... you belong behind bars forever..._

He felt himself starting to believe the voices, their coldness seeping into his soul. The drug he'd been given had ravaged his mind and spirit, eating at his resolve. His dream began to change to his cell, the way it was after he had returned. Before Peter had freed him to work on cases. It seemed all the more bare as he sat on the edge of the cot.

_This is your new home Neal. You'll be here a looong time..._

Neal looked around the small cell which seemed to grow smaller by the minute as he turned to find the walls closing in on him.

_Let me out! Please! I... I can change! I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm sorry. Peter? El? Mozzie? June?_

He saw figures that looked like his friends on the other side of the bars. They watched silently as the room closed in on him. He was begging and pleading with them to give him a another chance. He felt the walls grow tighter, his chest squeezed tight with pain as he fought to breath. There was no air in the room.

_Can't breath..._

**()()()**

"I don't understand what's causing this. We found out what the drugs were but nothing we've done is keeping him from reacting to the cocktail they gave him. We must be missing something." Doctor Jacobs sighed as he looked down at the twitching form of Neal Caffrey strapped to his bed. He held a folder in his hand and was glancing at the contents within, a nurse by the unconscious man checking his vitals. The folder showed the toxicology report on Caffrey's blood sample and all the drugs had been effectively eliminated from his system for the most part. It had been almost four days now and the young man was still fighting against some kind of residual reaction to the drugs the medic couldn't understand. It seemed to be withdrawal symptoms but they were more severe than any he had seen.

The young man had been recently tranquilized but even with drugs, his body shuddered and thrashed, face twitching as if in pain. The doctor gently mussed the young man's hair and slowly but surely Neal started to calm. He thought he saw Caffrey's face relax ever so slightly and his lips move around the tubing in his mouth as he tried to say something.

"It's ok. Nobody's going to hurt you. Your friends will come visit soon. Just rest." The doctor kept mussing the younger man's hair, Neal's body relaxing even more and finally he slumped into a restful sleep it seemed.

"Keep an eye on him. Let me know if there are any changes."

**()()()**

Neal felt the room close in, his friends leaving him when someone started to speak. They didn't sound familiar but they touched his head and mussed his hair. He could feel the hand and wanted to reach out, the feeling familiar to him even if the person he thought of wasn't here.

_Peter?_

He started to feel calmer, the voices subsiding as the walls loosened their grip and he felt himself curl up in the darkness, the hand gently mussing his hair till his mind quieted and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

**()()()**

It was another two days, making it nearly a week since Peter had been found that he was released from the hospital. They were confident his wounds would heal, his back and body still wrapped in bandages. They gave El and Peter instructions on how to care for his wounds at home and if anything should show signs of infection to call Dr. Jacobs directly. He sent them home with a few prescriptions for pain relievers, anti-inflammatory meds and some tranquilizers to keep Peter calm while he rested from his ordeal. Dr. Jacobs had also recommended a colleague of his for regular visits to talk and discuss Peter's experience per Hughes. It would help him deal with the after effects.

Peter was glad he was being released, sitting in the wheelchair without any complaint which made El uneasy it seemed. She was used to him being a bad patient but he was trying to be as agreeable as he could, the guilt of his having hurt her wrist still bothering him.

"Dr. Jacobs said we could go visit with Neal. They finally stabilized him. He seems to be doing much better he said." El kept her voice conversational, Peter nodding as his mind wandered a bit. He wasn't used to these tranquilizers they were giving him, his attention veering off to directions he never meant it to. The doctor assured him none of his medications would interact but should he find he had any odd symptoms to call him and let him know. Peter had nodded but by then he was already drugged up and feeling less anxious than he had. He didn't feel anything like his usual self, thinking back to when Neal was drugged. The young man had been absolutely childish but Peter... he had grown more quiet even more so than his normal personality.

El paused before a room marked 233. A federal agent Peter didn't recognize sat there. He nodded at them as El showed their pass and opened it up as she pushed Peter through. They found a nurse in green scrubs by Neal's beside checking on the still unconscious young man. She smiled at them and stood up to greet them.

"You must be the Burkes. Dr. Jacobs said you would be coming by to see Mr. Caffrey. I'll be right outside if you need anything." She smiled, checking a few things and seeing Peter's eyes viewing the straps on his partner.

"I'm sorry, but it was necessary to strap him in so he wouldn't hurt himself. He was thrashing quite a bit. The withdrawal symptoms are still happening. If he gets agitated, please feel free to use the nurse call." She continued to smile softly as she left them alone.

El helped Peter from his chair as he started to rise. He hadn't been very anxious to move but seeing Neal laying there woke him from his drug induced stupor.

"This isn't like Neal. He's..." Peter wasn't sure what word he wanted to use, his mind a bit hazy under the influence of the tranquilizers and painkillers. He stood by the bed and gently brushed at Neal's hair. The young man started to stir, lips moving ever so slightly around the breathing tube. He took Neal's hand in his despite the straps that held him down and sat beside him on a nearby chair.

"I'm here Neal. They said you're doing better." He paused then started to talk to his partner, El excusing herself but he didn't seem to notice as he kept talking. His eyes couldn't get past seeing the straps that held his partner down. It reminded him of another incident when Neal had gotten himself in trouble to help June's granddaughter. Peter sighed, rubbing at his face with his free hand.

"This is all my fault. Friscinetti... he's going to pay for this if I have anything to say." Peter shuddered at the man's name, the meds making his memories dull so that he could almost forget what happened. He only felt a slight chill at the thought of his past ordeal before his mind went happily blank again. He sighed and yawned, slumping forward and laying his head on the edge of the mattress. He felt tired suddenly, his body still healing from all that he had endured. A week wasn't enough to get over what Friscinetti had done to him but he was finally going home. Peter closed his eyes and stayed slumped over in a half doze. He barely felt the light squeeze of Neal's hand against his, the young man tapping a finger against his palm.

_P-E-T-E-R_

The letters formed in his tired brain as the tapping continued.

_P-E-T-E-R_

He felt the letters repeat till he squeezed back and the tapping changed.

_Help me..._

Peter felt himself jerk awake at the last few taps, his mind thinking he heard Neal's voice speaking. He sat up and looked at the young man, blue eyes peering back at him through two small slits. Peter blinked.

"Neal?" He saw the young man's eyes move languidly towards him then close again, Neal's hand going slack in his own. All the monitors remained normal so he was still with them, he had just woken up for a minute. Peter sighed, mussing the young man's hair gently.

"Take your time, kid. I'll be here."


	5. Chapter 5

**(Chapter 5 - Almost a month ago...)**

Thursday came and Neal left Satchmo, after walking and feeding the dog, at the Burkes'. He was a little nervous about the meeting unsure what to expect. It had been three days and Peter was still missing. Mozzie had yet to contact him with information about the symbol he had texted him and his own research on the subject had turned up nothing. He wondered if it was a wild goose chase as he straightened his lapel and tie for the hundredth time and fiddle with the tie pin without really thinking about it. June had left early with Bugsy and Neal had been alone when he left, the housekeeper off for the day. He had managed to scrounge up some eggs and bacon upstairs in his apartment from a recent grocery trip and had that for his breakfast but his appetite was meager.

Jones and Diana were strangely absent when he showed up for his meeting. He stopped by his own desk and dropped his hat off there before grabbing up a pen and pad as he walked across the floor and up the few stairs to Hughes' office. The older agent was smiling when he walked up and knocked, three other men in the room when he entered. They were all well dressed and he could tell by their demeanor they were in the same rank as Peter if not higher, possibly OPR. A cold chill washed over him but he remained the image of calmness.

"Caffrey, I'm glad you could make it. This is a preliminary inquiry to what happened the other night. You're not in trouble but we need to take your testimony of the incident. Agents Ackers, Sykes and Bluthe are going to be participating from OPR. Please take a seat." Hughes made a quick motion, Neal nodding quietly as he complied, his eyes sizing up the other three agents curiously.

**()()()**

It was nearly an hour later when they let him go, the three agents continually asking him about his comments as if he were on trial. He was glad to be out of there and Hughes looked sympathetic towards him as he let him go. The man wasn't any happier about all of this than he was. Neal stood and walked out of the room pausing briefly before Peter's office next door. The room was empty and dark. Neal sighed, moving to open the door and walk inside.

"_So you trust he's telling the truth then? He's an ex-con. I would think after everything that's happened you wouldn't trust him anymore. He wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes in our department. I'd have thrown him behind bars after the first case was solved. Be rid of him._"

The voice was matter of fact, cold but not really vindictive more than honest. Neal recognized the faint voice from behind the wall as Agent Sykes. The man had been staring at him curiously the whole time as if examining some new strain of flu under a microscope. It had made him nervous but he didn't let it bother him as he tried to do his best to tell his story about what had happened. He wanted Peter found.

"_He's a damn good consultant despite his quirks. You know that better than anyone Sykes. He helped Burke and you on that money laundering scam with the Roselli brothers. He's clever and smart and sees far more than some of these Harvard boys we hire. So... was there anything else you needed from me or my department? I have an agent to find._"

Neal felt a small smile curve on his lips. Hughes was defending him. He let out a relieved breath, some tension escaping his body as he slowly slid into Peter's seat and leaned back, eyes closing as he moved the chair back and forth with a quiet squeak. He could almost hear Peter telling him to get out of his chair or put his feet on the floor although he didn't have his feet on the desk out of respect today.

_Where are you, Peter?_

Neal was concentrating on thinking of anything he could have missed from that night, the symbol he'd sent Mozzie still burned into his memory. Someone knocked on the door and his eyes popped open. He saw a shadow standing there in the doorway, his mind seeing Peter there a moment before he realized it was Hughes. The other agents were walking past, Sykes turning to view the con a moment before he disappeared down the stairs.

"Caffrey, what are you doing in here?" Hughes didn't sound angry although his voice was often interpreted as such. Neal had learned to get a feel for the man and his various tones. He could hear concern in the older agent's voice and stood up.

"Sorry, sir. I was just... thinking." Neal started to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok, Neal. I'm sure we'll find him. Warn me if you do anything off the radar... ok?" He heard an understanding tone in the agent's voice, Neal trying not to tense up. He wasn't planning anything but he was doing his own research on the side.

"I'll do that sir." Neal turned and smiled at Hughes, the older agent patting him on the shoulder gently.

"Go home, Caffrey. Rest."

**()()()**

Neal walked out of the FBI building, fedora in hand. He was twiddling with the hat nervously without really noticing as he hailed a cab. He barely noticed the trip to the Burkes' as he paid the cabbie and stepped out, walking up the few stairs and pushing Peter's key into the lock. He hadn't told Hughes, Diana or Jones he had the keys thinking it wasn't a big deal at the moment as they were busy searching for Peter. It was a minor detail in the larger scheme of things and he was doing something good. He sighed, pushing the door open and nearly jumped when he heard someone call his name.

"Neal, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Peter?" El looked surprised that he was there. He saw her eyes go down to the keys in his hand, the little basketball key-chain obvious. Neal felt nervous suddenly, licking at his lips.

"I... Peter asked me to check on Satchmo. He's been on a stakeout and couldn't come check himself." Neal's manner was charming enough but he could sense that she knew he was lying about something. He closed the door as El confronted him. Finally he had to tell her what had happened, El immediately phoning Hughes. After a little while she hung up the cell, her face slightly more pale than it had been, her blue eyes shiny with tears. She was staring downwards at the cell in her hand then finally her gaze moved to Neal beside her on the sofa.

"You were... there?" Her voice sounded forlorn and desperate for some kind of closure. Neal swallowed hard and nodded, his hand still holding Peter's keys as he heard the jingle of his fingers playing with them. He blushed a bit and handed them to her.

"His car is with the FBI at the impound. I borrowed these from Diana but she doesn't..." His voice trailed off and she nodded.

"It's ok, Neal. I'm sure she'd understand why you took them. I'm glad you thought enough to take care of Satchmo. He looks happy." She was looking across the room at the dog sleeping near the dining room table and sighed.

"So no news... no demands..." Her voice cracked a bit on the last word. Suddenly he had her in a light hug, El's head leaning on his shoulder as she started to cry. He felt so guilty as if he had done something wrong by not being there with Peter. He shouldn't be out and about. Peter should be here not him. He felt all his worse nightmares coming true suddenly. What if Peter didn't come back? He kept holding El, the thoughts racing through his mind when he felt a buzzing in his pocket. El moved away, hands wiping gingerly at her tear streaked eyes.

"Your cell is ringing, Neal." She watched him expectantly but he was willing to ignore the phone to comfort her. Then he heard the familiar ring tone indicating who was calling, eyes widening as he pulled the phone out and pushed it to his ear.

"Kind of a bad time..." Neal whispered as he stood and walked a few feet away. He heard a slight intake of breath on the other side.

"_You told me to call you if I found anything. Are you saying I should just stop now?_" It was Mozzie, his tone it's usual sarcastic self. Neal shook his head.

"Not on the phone. Let me meet you at June's. I'm heading back there soon. Give me an hour." Neal whispered, El piping in.

"Is that Mozzie?" Her voice was still cracking some. Neal turned and nodded.

"_You're with El. Does she know?_" Mozzie heard the silence from Neal and breathed loud enough to be heard.

"_She knows... How is she?_" He sounded concerned, Neal sighing.

"As well as you can imagine. She's home early. Caught me coming to take care of Satch with Peter's keys. I had to explain." He was rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke.

"_I'll see you at June's._" The phone clicked as Mozz hung up and Neal pushed it back into his pocket. He moved back to the sofa and sat beside El, taking her hands in his.

"I'll make sure we find Peter even if I have to do it myself. I promise El." He was looking at her directly, her watery eyes blinking sadly at him and nodding.

"Just don't get yourself hurt, Neal. Please?" She gently brushed a hair from his face and smiled at him.

"So... I guess Mozzie has some info for you? Something to do with Peter's disappearance?" She was so perceptive. Neal smiled back.

"Yeah but I don't know what he has. If it's something, you'll be the first to know. Ok?" He told her that sincerely, meaning it with all his heart and hoping he could carry that promise out. She nodded as she pulled him into a small hug.

"Thank you Neal. Just be careful."

**()()()**

Neal made it back to June's, letting himself in. He heard voices coming from the dining room, his curiosity getting the better of him as he heard Mozzie and June talking.

"But why Bugsy? He was good-looking but heartless. You should rename him... Hey Neal." Mozzie waved the younger man over, June looking up and smiling.

"We were discussing why I named my pug Bugsy. I think it's obvious but Mozzie still insists I chose wrongly." She smirked slightly, Mozzie frowning.

"I just meant for a name it's good but as a person, Bugsy was the worse!" Mozz picked up his glass of wine, taking a sip and pushing an empty one towards Neal.

"You have to try this, Neal. June got it today from a friend. It's excellent!" The little guy was smiling, his face beaming. June stood up and smiled.

"I was going to make some lunch. Are you hungry, Neal?" June looked at him and he shook his head with a small smile.

"I'm good. Thanks, June. Mozz..." He gave his friend a look, Mozz nodding.

"Thanks for the wine, June." He finished his glass and poured a bit more before following Neal upstairs. Neal said nothing, the sound of their footfalls loud on the stairs. He reached the top and unlocked the door and opened it up with a small push as he shuffled inside and made his way to the couch. He plopped down on the cushions, tossing his hat onto the coffee table and leaned back tiredly. He heard the door shut, footsteps nearing him and the sound of crystal placed on the table. He opened his eyes when he felt Mozz sit beside him.

"I'm sorry about The Suit... Peter..." Mozz took a sip of his drink as a redirect, his manner nervous. He pulled the usual messenger bag around his shoulder and dropped it behind him and pulled something out of it. Neal noticed the small folder, glancing at his friend.

"Your symbol. I think I found out what it represents. It's a custom number for a family." He handed the folder to Neal who took it and opened it up as he sat up. Neal sat there and read it a few minutes, shifting pages, eyes widening.

"They were prosecutors in the Spanish Inquisition? That's what we're looking for?" Neal felt a coldness wash over him at the thought of someone using this as their symbol. Mozz nodded gravely, pointing at a particular page.

"Read who is related to that family. I think The Suit's in more danger than you think, Neal. You were lucky they let you go!" His voice cracked as he spoke, his manner worried. Neal read the page and his worries grew.

"Friscinetti. Dammit! Peter's been working on his case for a while now. Figure's he would be related to a family associated with the Spanish Inquisition. He killed his own father in cold blood!" He hissed to nobody in general, his manner suddenly angry. He stood, dropping the folder and stomping around as he paced the floor.

"Neal, you're going to wear a hole in June's floor at this rate!" Mozzie sounded concerned, Neal looking up at him and glaring before he paused, took a deep breath and nodded.

"I don't understand why they didn't take both of us. Why leave one of us behind to send a message then not give any kind of demands? What if he's..." Neal cursed silently, pacing again as he turned and made his way to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer. He never drank the stuff but suddenly he wanted one. Maybe Peter was channeling through him. He saw Mozzie give him a look.

"Uhm, Neal... you know that's a beer, right?" His nose was crinkled at the thought of drinking one but Neal nodded, popping the bottle open.

"Peter left them here from the last visit. I meant to get rid of them but never remembered." He shrugged, sipping from the bottle and making a face before he took another sip. This was going to be the least of his sacrifices he thought as he walked around, his mind trying to piece the meaning behind the symbol and it's association with the mobster.

"Is there any reason why they would have had that symbol on the car the FBI found stripped?" Neal sat back down next to his friend when Mozzie's face lit up.

"Actually, there is. The vehicle was a company car for a shell corporation Friscinetti runs. The company manufactures and sells exercise equipment under the name: Cordoba Cardio Complex. The owner of record is one Otto D. Fae. I think Friscinetti has a sick sense of humor. Anyhow, the offices aren't here in town but I'm looking into who may have owned the vehicle. May take a few days if they didn't hide it too well, longer if it's under an assumed name." Mozzie looked expectantly at Neal who nodded and smiled finally.

"Thanks, Mozz. Let me know what you find."

**()()()**

Peter gave a muffled scream, his face pushed forward into a vice like holder set within a large wooden slab. His arms were raised tightly over his head, his body strapped to the plank securely. He could hear the whoosh of the whip as it was swirled around behind him out of sight. It hit his bare back none too lightly, his cries unheard. They had used the same dental implement from before to seal his mouth closed, several soaking wet rags pushed inside. He was fighting to breath while the water filled his mouth from the rags making him feel like he was going to drown or choke. His jaw was on fire from being unable to move. He heard Friscinetti's voice in the background.

"I guess you're not ready to talk yet... Not that I'm really here to have a conversation. My ancestors would have dragged you before the tribunal at some point to confess your sins. Do you have any sins to admit to Agent Burke? Perhaps you've kept some information your CONsultant needed to know from him. Perhaps you'd like to admit you've made a mistake in underestimating how much pain I could inflict..." The mobster chuckled, whispering low so Peter couldn't hear. He strained to know what they were talking about but his body was wracked with pain, his ears rushing with the sound of his own pulse. He slumped on the plank before he felt an even more horrific pain.

"I'm sorry. We don't want you to get sick so this is the only means of making sure you don't die of an infection before I'm through with you. _Pour some more alcohol on his back then move him to the other room._"

Peter heard the man's voice fade into the background as his consciousness started to fade from the horrific pain. His wounds were burning from the liquid, his eyes beginning to roll back into his head as he lost consciousness.

**()()()**

He wasn't sure how long he was with Friscinetti, Peter's sense of time skewed by the amount of time he spent beat up or otherwise drugged and half-conscious. When they weren't torturing him, he was strapped to the ceiling, hanging from his arms as he feet dangled. His arms ached from the position but he had no choice. Sometimes he would be delirious with agony, his mind wandering to places it wouldn't normally think about.

**oOoOoOo**

_Peter, you lied to me!_

Neal stood there before him, looking up at him where he hung from the rafter. Peter blinked unsure what to think about the young man's presence in this horrible place. The young man was dressed in one of his suits he loved so much, that silly hat on his head.

_Neal? What are you doing here?_

He was speaking despite the rags stuffed in his mouth and tape over his lips. Peter didn't even realize what it was he was doing, his mind just moving along in the strange reality it had created.

_This is exactly what you deserve. Liars were put through many tortures during the Spanish Inquisition and you are the worst of them all!_

Neal's words stung worse than the alcohol they kept pouring on his wounds. Peter struggled against the ropes that held him wanting to explain.

_I was trying to protect you, Neal. I didn't want you to go half-cocked like you did and try to do this all yourself. You almost killed an innocent man! Would you have been able to live with that?_

Neal just glared at him, his blue eyes flashing angrily.

_You can't push this back on me. If you had been honest, I wouldn't have had to go and do what I did. You forced my hand, Peter! I'm a grown man. You should trust me... like I trusted you! Good-bye, Peter._

Neal frowned at him, reaching down with what looked like the key to his anklet. He pushed it into the slot and the little light turned yellow. Neal pulled it off and toss it aside with the key.

_A souvenir to remember me by. You'll never see me again._

Neal turned and walked away, Peter struggling to follow. He felt a kind of anger but he felt more than that. He was sad, guilt eating at him for not believing enough to tell Neal the truth. He was an adult and he should have treated him as such.

_Neal? Neal come back. Let me explain! Neal!_

**oOoOoOo**_  
_

Peter twitched, brow furrowed as he hung suspended and unconscious from the rafters. His body shuddered in response to his dream then slumped into full unconsciousness as the nightmare ended.


	6. Chapter 6

**(Chapter 6 - Currently)**

Another week passed and Neal was awake more and more. His system was finally dealing with the drug and it was passing out of his system the physician said. They were finally able to remove the straps that held him once he was lucid enough and his seizures were at a minimal. He was breathing better, the breathing tubes no longer needed. Dr. Jacobs was still confused as to why the drug had been so potent on the young man's system with only one dosage.

Neal sat up when he heard the door start to open to his room. His blue eyes peered over at the space waiting to see who was coming in. Two brown eyes peered back at him.

"Hey buddy. How are you feeling today?" Peter walked into the room one arm pulled behind him as he approached his friend and partner. Neal smiled, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Better but I'll be happier when I can get out of here. I'm starting to feel a bit confined if you know what I mean." Neal blew his bangs up with a puff of air from his lips. Peter chuckled, glancing around a moment before he pulled his one arm back around.

"Contraband from El and June. They thought you might want some real food." Peter pulled up a chair and handed the bag over to Neal as he sat down. Neal blinked in surprise, opening the bag and peering in side. His eyes widened with delight as he pulled out some nicely wrapped sandwiches and some homemade pudding.

"Wow... chicken salad! Tell Elizabeth thank you for me. And June's rice pudding. I don't know what to say..." He looked a bit red in the face suddenly as if trying to hold back his emotions. Peter put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up, cheeks flushed.

"Sorry, I didnt mean to get all emotional but they told me the drug would make things a bit harder to deal with until it was completely gone. They're still... looking for a reason why it's affecting me so much. I'm just glad I feel more in control now." Neal started to smile a tentative smile at least, his cheeks less flushed as he got over the feeling of wanting to cry. He wiped at his eyes before he unwrapped the sandwiches and started to take a bit of one. He grinned.

"You can tell her yourself later today. Elizabeth's going to be by in a few. I'm still on leave. Have an appointment with Dr. Jacob's friend in about an hour down the hall. He has offices in this same hospital. They figured with me visiting you, it would make things that much more convenient." Peter rolled his eyes but he really did want to get through this. He wasn't one to deal with his emotions head on and it was hard to admit to that much less go through the after effects of his capture. Friscinetti had done a serious number on him but in the past week he'd already felt he was making some progress. Neal nodded, putting the sandwich down and touching Peter's arm.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I guess we're both a little '_messed_' up right now." Neal watched his friend, the strongest person he knew fighting with whatever the mobster had done to him. He saw fear, something he thought he would never seen in his friend's eyes. Peter nodded with a smile he didn't feel.

"I suppose... Hey, I have to go to my appointment. I'll be back in an hour and El should be here before that." Peter mussed the younger man's hair, Neal making a face back at him as he nodded back. Peter rose from the chair and turned, leaving the room. When he was outside, Peter leaned against the wall by the door and slid down to the floor, face in hands. His body was trembling for some reason, his thoughts panicked. He wasn't sure why but he was feeling afraid.

_I don't think you know the control one can have over another with just a few simple training techniques. You can change a man's attitude about anything even killing with a simple adjustment. Create fear and he's willing to do anything to feel safe again, isn't that right... Agent Burke?_

Peter shuddered where he sat, the voice of Friscinetti in his head as he kept his eyes closed and covered his ears trying to keep from hearing.

_You think you know fear now but wait till you think you're safe. That's when it all comes to fruition..._

Peter pulled his knees to his chest, eyes shut tight as he tried to forget what the man had done to him. He thought he heard another voice in the background, someone touching his shoulder lightly. Peter jumped, looking up and seeing a surprised nurse standing there. He blinked, his mind trying to wrap itself around where he was as he returned to the present.

"Are you ok, Sir?" She looked a bit worried as she stood a safe distance after his reaction. Peter didn't react right away, his mind still waking from the nightmare he'd been living. Finally he nodded, pushing himself back to his feet. The nurse was watching him curiously and he smiled with what he hoped was a reassuring expression.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to scare you." He started to walk away, his manner uncomfortable with what happened when he felt her hand on his arm.

"Whatever it is... it will get better." Her voice sounded so certain making him turn and look at her. She was smiling at him, her hand letting go of his arm after a moment. He nodded to her with a slight smile.

"Did you need help with anything?" She was still smiling but he shook his head. She nodded in understanding, patting his arm gently just before she turned to continue down the hallway. Peter watched her as she disappeared down the corridor before he turned and headed for his appointment.

**()()()**

Neal watched the door as his friend left, returning his attention to the food Peter had brought. He finished half of a sandwich, wrapping up the rest and eating the pudding. Neal was thinking about everything that had led up to their current situation and Peter's safe return.

**(Not quite a month ago...)**

Two weeks had passed since Peter's kidnapping and Neal paced his apartment at June's. Mozzie was in the corner at the table typing and doing something that made his friend stare at the screen intently.

Neal kept pacing around the room, walking out onto the terrace at some point. He walked over to the edge and stared out over the wall at the city, his eyes scoping the terrain of glass and metal wondering where his friend was. Peter had to be alive! It confused him that Friscinetti wouldn't have sent a set of demands or some kind of gloating DVD or other proof he had the agent. From what he had read in the case file so far, Friscinetti was a bit of a show-boater. It surprised the con that the mobster wouldn't take credit for having a federal agent hostage much less one that had been obviously in his business. Something was fishy here. If he meant for Peter never to found, why leave him as a messenger? It made no sense!

"Uh... Neal? You may want to come over here. I think I have something." Mozzie looked a bit wide eyed as he stared at the screen. Neal turned and slowly walked over, still distracted by his concern for Peter. El had been taking it as well as she could, a guard posted at the Burke home just in case. Neal had been visiting with her while he was off the clock, his close involvement with the case. He had tried to keep in the know with Jones and Diana as much as they would allow him to be. Diana had chided him a bit on the keys but knew he had done it for a good cause, telling him to just ask next time.

"Neal... come over here already and look! I think you'll want to see this." Mozzie sounded more anxious that usual with just a hint of excitement. Neal turned his attention to his friend before his eyes hit the screen. He hovered over Mozz who coughed, pointing at a nearby chair. Neal sighed and scooted over, sitting beside his friend.

"So what am I looking at here? Looks like property management for Cordoba Cardio Complex? Otto D. Fae's been busy." Neal pointed at the list of addresses on the laptop screen, looking at one in particular.

"This one is just inside my two-mile radius. What are the chances?" Neal glanced at the address, putting it in his memory as Mozzie nodded and pushed a few more buttons.

"Yeah, found that was a strange coincidence but the most likely place they'll have him at is here." Mozzie pointed at another address clear across town closer to Long Island. He pushed a few more keys and a satellite view of the building and some street photos of the area. There was a large hurricane fence around the property with barbed wire at the top and what appeared to be surveillance cameras and possible electric current. Neal sighed.

"This is the only one with that much fortification around it. Considering it's listed as a manufacturing surplus warehouse, they have way too much security for a building full of cardio equipment. I'd say the Suit is there." Mozzie leaned back in the chair, watching Neal as he continued to scroll through the information.

"I can't go there with my current radius and I'm technically off duty on this case. Maybe I can convince Diana or Jones to go with me. I need a way to convince them. Any ideas Mozz?" Neal wasn't sure how he was going to broach this to the agents but he had to try the lead if it was possible.

"We could fake another case file..." Mozzie was going to finish but Neal shook his head.

"They're not going to fall for that a second time. Mostly why OPR got involved this time around. Hughes kept them at bay." Neal sighed, remembering what Hughes had told him about letting him know if he found anything out before he did it. He got up and walked around the room again, trying to figure out what to do. Subterfuge was his best bet and he was good at it but maybe... just maybe he could try being honest for once.

"Neal? You have a strange look. Did you find a way to get out there? I can check it out for you if you want." Mozzie looked at him over his glasses, Neal shaking his head.

"Yes... and just get me an idea how to get in. Any vulnerabilities but don't go inside. Friscinetti is dangerous. You read his file. Stay in touch."

**(Presently...)**

Neal had dozed off, the bag of food still in hand. He moved ever so slightly as he lay there, head slumped to one side. His nose crinkled as he sniffed in his sleep. A figure crept quietly around him, removing the bag of food from his hand before it fell to the floor. Neal stirred but didn't wake up, eyes still closed. There was a quiet '_tearing_' sound as the figure gently taped Neal's arms to the railings along the side of the bed. They wrapped the blanket tight around his legs and taped them securely.

Neal started to wake up as he tried to kick his legs in his sleep and couldn't move them. His eyes fluttered open, looking around a moment before focusing on a figure in black scrubs with a mask. Neal blinked unsure how to react as the figure pushed a rag into his mouth, pulling medical tape tightly across his lips. The young man struggled, finding himself securely strapped to the railings, legs wrapped tightly.

"Friscinetti, wants you to send a message for your Fed friend." The man's voice was familiar, Neal realizing it was one of the men who had injected him when he found Peter. He struggled to get free when his eyes widened. The man was filling a syringe with a vile yellow liquid he recognized, his struggles more frantic.

"Don't worry. I won't mess up those pretty arms of yours. Your IV will work just fine." The man popped open the IV connector and injected the fluid into the tube. Neal watched as the jaundiced liquid slowly made its way down the tubing towards his waiting veins. He struggled, swallowing hard as he saw it finally reach the bottom.

"MmmmMMMMph!" Neal gave a muffled cry, thrashing as the liquid burned through his body yet again. He had just gotten over the first withdrawal and now it was back in, this version feeling a bit more potent than the last. Neal's eyes glazed over, rolling slowly back to white as he started to seize. The man in scrubs smiled, throwing the syringe in the trash and pulling something else out of his pocket. He pushed the item under Neal's pillow, leaning over to whisper into the con's ear.

"_Friscinetti says you'll know what to do with his little gift under the pillow._" The man continued to speak quietly, his tone almost monotone and rhythmic. Neal's eyes were still rolled back but his head seemed to nod ever so gently at the man's words. The figure stepped away from the bed and disappeared back through the adjacent door leading to the room next to his. Neal continued to seize, his face pale with a slight flush to his cheeks, a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

A few minutes after the man left, the main door opened up. Elizabeth peeked inside the room. Her eyes widened as she saw the tape over Neal's mouth and rushed forward.

"Neal? Neal wake up!" She shook him gently as she worked on removing the tape that held him in place, pulling the tape from his lips. Neal was still seizing, his body twitching slightly as he coughed up the rags. El reached for the nurse call but it had been cut. She felt panic rising in her as she continued to free Neal, unsure how he was. She got his left wrist free when she started on his right.

"It's ok, Neal." She spoke softly, brushing a few hairs that clung to his forehead. He felt warm and feverish, his face flushed and sweating. She finished freeing his wrists and started to pull at the tape around his legs and ankles. He was finally free, El turning towards the door to call the agent outside in. She had barely taken two steps when she heard the sound. Elizabeth turned slowly to find Neal sitting up in bed.

"Neal?" Her voice was barely audible, eyes filled with terror as she watched him pull the IVs and monitors from his body and stand up. His movements were jerky but he kept the gun, the item the man had pushed under his pillow steady.

"Lock the door, El. Don't make me hurt you." His voice was cold, a lack of emotion to it she had never heard before. She hesitated until she saw him cock the gun and reached back to lock the door. Neal smiled at her but it wasn't the Neal she knew. This smile was darker, the brightness of his eyes lacking any of his former self. Neal continued to smile coldly at her, taking the sheet from the bed that had held him and tossing it to her.

"Tear it into strips." His voice held no emotion at all as he continued to hold the gun on her. He waited till she had torn several strips of cloth and stopped her, walking forward.

"Turn around and hold your arms behind you." He spoke as if he didn't know her, El pausing.

"Neal... Please. Wait till Peter gets here." She didn't get to say anything else as he reached over and trapped her between his arms. She pushed back against the wall fearfully. He held the gun close to her face and glared at her. Neal didn't say anything, pulling her around and holding her hands behind her as he used the strips of cloth to tie them before he turned her back around and sat her down against the door. He tied another strip of cloth around her mouth and grinned at her coldly.

"Now just stay quiet while I change." Neal stood up, gun still in hand as he moved to the other side of the bed. El watched as he bent over, picking something up then placing it up on the bed. She recognized the overnight bag as one June had brought for him. He pulled out a pair of jeans and put them on, removing the hospital robe and tossing it onto the bed. He pulled out a black tee and shrugged into it as he pulled out a pair of black suede slippers and pushed his feet into them.

"Ready?" Neal had turned to look at her again, gun still at the ready. He pulled El up to her feet and she looked at his eyes, hoping for some semblance of her husband's partner, but Neal's eyes had gone black, little blue left. He was a shell that looked like their friend but this wasn't her Neal. He would never act this way.

**()()()**

Peter was trembling some, his brown eyes wide but his manner less tense. A man with a blue polo shirt tucked into jeans smiled at him, gently patting him on the shoulder.

"It's ok, Agent Burke. You're awake now. I think we learned a lot today. How do you feel?" The psychiatrist smiled, hazel eyes full of honest concern. Peter nodded, calming as the hypnotic suggestion he'd been given helped him cope. He'd seen what happened and been able to watch for once as if he were merely an observer. It hurt to see himself tortured by Friscinetti and his men but being apart from the actual scene had helped him to put what happened to him in perspective. He wasn't at fault for what happened and he was beginning to turn back the fear that had been overcoming him.

"A little nauseated actually. It was... difficult to watch." Peter sat up from where he had been semi-reclined on a settee type seat. He smiled at the doctor when he held his hand out. Peter shook hands with him, standing up.

"We'll this time I think you did very well at dealing with your experience in a healthy manner. If you want, your wife can come with you next time. I think it's safe to include her in your sessions now. You've come far in the past two weeks. Same time next week, Agent Burke." He patted Peter on the arm.

"Thank you, Dr. Erickson."

Peter left the office, a small suite hidden in the hospital. He felt like he'd dropped a large weight off his shoulders, at least a good chunk of it. His episode earlier didn't seem real anymore, his mind better able to deal with things. Each session was making him feel a little more himself, his spells growing less and less frequent but it was still early. He had much more to do before he got better. Peter knew that. He wanted to go back to Neal's room, talk to his friend and hug his wife. He was sure that would help anything that was bothering him.

He yawned, feeling far more relaxed than he had before the session. Peter had to admit he never knew this kind of thing would help but going back to the scene had made it much easier to deal with. He walked around the corner, seeing the empty chair in front of Neal's room wondering where the agent on duty had gone. As he drew closer to the door he saw it open and the agent stepped out. Behind him was Jones and Diana, Peter surprised to see his associates in the hospital. Diana saw him before Jones did, nudging the other agent with a worried glance.

"Diana? Jones... what brings you here?" Peter felt a sinking feeling in his gut where he had felt relaxed, his shoulders tensing as if in anticipation of bad news. He saw the look on Diana's face reflected on Jones'.

"Boss..." Her tone was what made him push past her and look at the closing door to Neal's room. He stopped it, holding it open and rushing inside.

"Neal? El?" Peter called out, looking around the empty room. It was full of agents but it was empty of the two most important things: His wife and his partner. He felt a hand on his shoulder, starting as he turned. It was Diana.

"Peter... I need to talk to you." Her voice was firm, Peter finally turning to look at her directly. That feeling in his gut was growing worse, his stomach feeling a bit ill.

"El was supposed to be here visiting with Neal. What happened? Diana, where are they?" He felt a cold chill down his spine, his agent frowning ever so slightly.

"Peter... we don't know. The nurse came to check on Neal and found the door locked. They went for keys and entered the room but found them gone, the adjacent door open. We're about to check the security tapes but we think they went out the side door through the adjoining room." He could hear that there was more to tell as he felt the knot in his stomach grow, nausea threatening to overcome him as the tension he had recently worked to get rid of returned.

"I feel a but coming on. What aren't you telling me, Diana? Where is my wife? Where is Neal?" He saw the torn strips of cloth on the floor, the tape on the sheets and bed where someone had been secured and several evidence bags. Diana moved over to the bed where she picked up one baggie and brought it over.

"This..." She handed the bag to Peter who took a look, eyes widening. He stared at the contents, that sick feeling had had growing.

"Friscinetti... his men were here. Dammit! He has my wife and partner!" Peter threw the baggie onto the bed and turned to exit but Diana blocked him.

"Boss, it's not that easy. We have no idea where they went or how many." She was about to say more when Jones popped in and interrupted.

"Peter... Diana... they have security tape available. You have to see this." His tone was less than assuring, Peter swallowing hard despite his anger at the situation. A helpless feeling sprinkled its way into the mix making his head ache as he thought about Friscinetti having Neal and Elizabeth. Maybe those sessions hadn't been enough. He wanted to curl up in a ball but he followed Diana as Jones left the room.

Jones led them both to a nearby security booth, a guard already viewing what appeared to be security footage. As they entered the room, Peter could see a view of the hallway outside of Neal's room. It included the room they thought they had snuck out of with the bad guys.

"Peter, Diana... this is Atkins. He's pulled the tape from the past hour since your visit, boss. Play it for them." Jones didn't sound very enthused, his glance averted from Peter. Even Diana looked curious as they turned their eyes to the screen.

Peter watched as the footage, sped up, showed Peter entering the room then exiting as time passed quickly on the screen. A man in black scrubs showed up about 30 minutes after Peter left, entering the adjoining room. 15 minutes later he left the same door, followed almost immediately by the entrance of Elizabeth who entered Neal's room.

"El?" Peter looked at the screen worriedly, unsure what to think. He watched as the film played along the outer corridor and doorway. Another 20 minutes passed before he saw the adjoining door open and gasped.

"Peter... are you ok?" Diana put her hand on his shoulder as she saw him trembling.

"It can't be... Jones. Jones play it back. I don't believe it..." Peter's voice was hollow, Jones nodding at him as he had Atkins play back the film. Peter just stared and watched, his mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

"Pause it..." Peter practically yelled. He got closer to the screen.

"Zoom in. What's that in his hand? Jones... Diana?" He stared at the scene hoping it wasn't what he thought. He heard both agents gasp.

"It's a gun. Peter... Neal doesn't carry a gun!" Diana turned and looked at him curiously as he nodded.

"No... Neal doesn't..."


	7. Chapter 7

**(Chapter 7)**

Neal led the frightened Elizabeth Burke out the adjacent room, peering around as he managed to hide the fact she was tied by staying close to her. He had taken the rag off her mouth, holding the gun to her out of sight as he maneuvered his hostage down the hall away from the agent outside his room and to a nearby elevator.

"_Where did you park?_" His voice was less than gentle as he hissed the question at her. El shuddered slightly unsure what was going to happen to her.

"_3rd level garage. I-18. Neal... don't do this._" She pleaded with him but he just gripped her wrists tighter in his hand making her wince some as the elevator dinged, doors opening soon after. He pushed her inside, pressing the button for their floor.

"_Don't... push me!_" He hissed at her as the doors shut. She saw that his eyes were dilated so his eyes looked black rather than blue. She noticed the sheen of sweat on his skin, his eyes shiny with some odd excitement she didn't understand. It scared her to see him like this, knowing this wasn't the Neal Caffrey she had come to know. She watched him curiously despite her fear, her blue eyes meeting his when his attention was drawn back.

"This is Peter's fault. Blame your husband for all of this, Elizabeth." Neal's voice had turned cold, his hand tapping nervously on the elevator's metal wall. She saw him pull out his phone, text someone before glancing up at her curiously, the elevator finally dinging as it stopped and the doors opened.

"Come on..." He grasped her arm tightly in his hand and yanked her outside with him, walking through the parking garage towards the slot she'd told him. She shuffled her feet some but not much as he flaunted the gun again. It only took a few minutes and they were standing at the Taurus. Neal held her tight as he used his free hand to type in the keypad on the door.

"Lucky thing Peter never changes his codes. So easy to break. Get in!" He pushed her in through the driver's side, El sliding in to the passenger side as he slid in after her, locking the doors. He reached under the dash and smiled as he drew up a key.

"So predictable..." He smirked, dropping the gun onto his lap as he started the car. El flinched when he reached across to her and pulled on her seat-belt. She blinked in surprise noticing he didn't pull his own on. Neal put the car into gear and they were off. She watched him, unsure what to think, his body shaking ever so slightly with tremors. Neal looked pale, his skin ashen, eyes still fully dilated. She saw him reach across to the glove box, pulling out a pair of sunglasses. He pushed them onto his face as they pulled out into the afternoon sun. She watched his body tense noticeably at the change in light but he kept driving, doing nothing that would make them stick out.

Several minutes passed. Neal pulled the car over to a nearby street curb and parked. There was an alley on her side of the car. El looked at him unsure of what was going on.

"Neal?" She saw his cheek twitch ever so slightly beneath the sunglasses but he didn't turn to face her as he sat stiffly in the seat. El suddenly felt angry, shifting as well as she could with her arms bound behind her within the seat-belt.

"Fine... don't talk to me! Do whatever it is you're going to do but know this... Peter will find you, Neal." She was tired, upset and suddenly frightened as he turned and faced her again. She couldn't see behind those tinted lenses but something had changed. Neal had tensed, the muscles in his neck taut. He swallowed hard opening his mouth to speak.

"I know he'll find me..." He spoke softly, menacingly almost. El stared at him unsure of his intentions as he reached for the glove box again pulling out a pocket knife of Peter's. Neal popped the blade holding it close to her waist. Suddenly she felt the seat-belt button pushed and released. He turned her roughly around towards the door, cutting her hands free. El felt him pull back, the sound of the knife closing as she turned. The doors unlocking startling her.

"Neal?" She couldn't find the words to say anything else. He was quiet, staring ahead. El stared at the door uncertain if she should open it.

"Go into the alley. Don't look back." His tone was emotionless. El blinked about to open her mouth but nodded, exiting the vehicle. She closed the door and started into the alley way uncertainly. The sound of her heels echoed off the walls as she took slow deliberate steps. She'd only walked a few yards when a figure stepped out ahead, startling her.

"Mozzie?" El felt a sudden relief, curiosity making her wonder what had brought the little guy here. She watched him shift nervously, his glance staring beyond her where Neal was in their car.

"Hurry! He said there wouldn't be much time." Mozz sounded rushed, grasping her arm as he pulled her further into the alley. El made a quick look back despite everything, watching as Neal looked towards her briefly with those sunglasses before pulling back out into traffic and disappearing.

**()()()**

Peter paced after watching the rest of the surveillance tapes. He finally sat and re-watched the tape of El and Neal in the elevator. His wife looked terrified, Neal far from his normal self, finger tapping away. Peter sighed, finally turning the sound down. He just watched the young man tapping his fingers when it hit him. He replayed the scene zooming in on the younger man's hand.

_D-A-N-T-E_

Neal was tapping out a name but what did the little guy have to do with all of this? Peter walked outside, motioning for Jones and Diana to join him.

"Look... he just tapped out a name: _Dante_. It's a clue! Some one's manipulating him and he needs help. Jones, tell Hughes I'm going to seek out Mozzie and keep an eye out for Neal and my wife. Diana, see what you can find on the drug they gave him. Get Dr. Jacobs to help."

**()()()**

Peter started out of the hospital, raising his hand to hail a cab when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the number. It wasn't one he recognize but he picked up.

"Burke..." He heard an intake of breath and then a familiar voice.

"_Peter? IS it really you?_" He started as he realized who was speaking.

"El? You're ok? Where are you?" Peter was relieved moving to a small bench to sit as he listened to his wife. He was smiling, happy to know she was doing well.

"_Peter... Neal's in trouble. I'm with Mozzie at June's._" She sounded a little worried, her tone frightened. Peter nodded at the cell, seeing a cab pull up finally. He rose to enter it.

"I'm headed your way. Hold on, El. I love you." Peter heard a soft sigh.

"_I love you too, Peter. Don't hang up yet! Mozzie wants to say something._" He heard movement and soft voices, one sounded like June's then someone else.

"_Suit... Neal told me send you a message while he was able to._" Mozzie's voice sounded conspiratorial, Peter nodding as he slid into the cab and gave June's address.

"I know what happened. Thanks for rescuing my wife. What's the message?" Peter sat back in the cab, trying to relax as he waited for Mozz to speak.

"_Don't look for him._" Mozzie's voice cracked slightly, Peter sitting up as he heard the message. Neal was going to sacrifice himself?

"Mozz... do you know where he is? Tell me!" He was desperate now but he heard a frustrated sigh.

"_No. He's already left your car in a public place to be picked up at your leisure and if I'm not mistaken he no longer has his anklet. You cut it off when you were rescued. He dumped his phone. He's gone ghost on all of us, Suit. Whatever they gave him was pretty potent and the new dose will probably kill him._" Mozzie's voice sounded pretty glum. Peter wiped at his face with his free hand looking up as the cab slowed down.

"I'm just pulling up to June's. We'll discuss this in person." Peter waited for the cab to park, paid and exited. He looked both ways before sprinting across the street towards a large brown stone. He barely reached up to knock when June answered.

"Peter... It's good to see you. El is upstairs with Mozzie." She smiled at him in a knowing manner, hugging him briefly as he hugged her back and walked towards the stairs. Peter started up when he saw a door open above and a shadow fill the entrance. He heard soft footfalls and glanced up to see Elizabeth standing there. It was as if planned, they ran to each other and El pulled her arms around him tightly.

"Peter! I was worried about you when I saw Neal. I'm glad you safe!" She clung to him, kissing him on the lips. He reciprocated, glad his wife was safe after everything. They finally paused their reunion long enough to walk upstairs, arms around each other. Peter kept an arm around his wife's waist as they entered Neal's rooms. He heard typing, finding Mozzie at the table on his laptop. El clung to Peter as they moved to the table and sat down. The little guy didn't turn around.

"Suit... Glad you could make it. I have some information for you." Mozzie finally sat up a bit straighter, turning to face Peter. The agent moved closer, his hand holding his wife's as he peered over Mozz's shoulder and looked at the laptop screen.

"Friscinetti... I found the formula for that drug but Neal doesn't have but a few days. He was messed up when he called me and since he ghosted... no clue where he's at." Mozzie looked over his glasses at the agent, pointing at his screen as Peter nodded and read the contents. His expression turned grim.

"No wonder it took Neal so long to withdrawal on this junk!" He spat angrily, looking over the potent cocktail again. Among the many elements used in the serum Friscinetti's men had given Neal was dextromethorphan, dimethyltryptamine and codeine not to mention a nasty concoction of street drugs. He cursed silently to himself, standing up straight and sighing. El gently massaged his shoulders but the tension was more than anyone could ease away. He started to feel stressed, his memory of the session earlier with the psychiatrist coming back to him.

He had been relieving the worst of his torture under Friscinetti while under hypnosis. Now he was stressed again and his control was slipping. He had failed Neal, the young man out there on the streets somewhere in danger if not near dying.

He turned to look around himself when he heard the mobster's voice clucking sarcastically in his head. El gently touched his cheek but he didn't seem aware of her as he flash-backed.

_You think you're safe from me? When you least expect it, I'll be there, Agent Burke. Your little haven will become a hellish pit of fear. Still think I haven't gotten into your head?_

Peter felt his heart racing as panic washed over him. He felt his body shudder in memory of almost drowning. The lashes to his back. He wanted to run, to fight, his anger and rage at being trapped against his will finally taking a toll.

_You can't get away, Burke. I'll be right beside you..._

Someone touched his shoulder and Peter grabbed their wrist in his hand tightly, pulling their arm back behind them.

_You haven't the courage or strength to resist._

Peter's heart raced and he was about to strike the figure with his other hand when someone held it tight and he felt himself snapping from the nightmare.

"Peter! Peter, stop!"

He heard the familiar voice yelling at him but it took a moment for it to sink in as another voice joined it.

"Suit! Wake up already! He's having some kind of episode..."

Peter looked around him and saw he was holding El's arm taut behind her, her blue eyes wide with fear. He blinked trying to piece together what he was seeing when he found Mozzie holding onto his other hand with both of his. He felt his hand hold on his wife loosen as the tension left his body and he collapsed to his knees. Peter felt his vision start to gray around the sides, his body starting to go into shock.

"Peter... Honey. Peter... you're ok. _Mozzie, call June!_" El's voice broke through his haze and he looked up at her before feeling himself start to pass out. She helped to ease him to the floor, caressing his hair and face as she spoke softly to him.

"It's ok, Peter. We'll get through this." El's voice eased him into a calm place and he passed out.

**()()()**

Neal stumbled through the streets of New York, his mind lost in the haze of whatever drug Friscinetti's man had given him. He wrapped his arms around himself, the cool night air getting to him as he kept going, feeling as if he had to get away from something or someone.

The world looked alien to him, strange thoughts and feelings rushing through his brain at a million miles an hour as they threatened to steal his sanity. He shivered finally ducking into the stoop of an abandoned building and sitting down. Neal was exhausted, fighting the urge to do things he never would have thought of before. He felt the cold metal of the gun still tucked into the back of his jeans under his tee. He had come close to using it on Elizabeth if not himself after the fact. Neal didn't want to hurt anyone but the drug was changing him and altering his personality as it ate away at his very soul it seemed. He could still feel it burning through his veins hours after the injection.

He looked at where the IV had been and saw a nasty looking bruise and something like a small rash at the injection site. His arm itched and he found himself scratching at the site despite himself. Neal curled up against the wall, eyes drooping as he watched people pass him by. He was about to close his eyes when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up to see a figure standing there.

"So this is where you went. We've been waiting for you, Caffrey." The man's voice was vaguely familiar but he was too tired to figure out who or from where. He just nodded without a thought, the man helping him to his feet. He was aware of another figure helping to hold him up as the two men eased him away from the stoop and maneuvered him towards a waiting car. They helped him inside and he leaned against the door frame without moving, eyes taking in a bit of the interior as he started to pass out.

"Not yet, Caffrey. We need to give you your medicine." He felt the door he was leaning on open, one of the men slipping inside, closing the door. He stared at the man a moment before slumping against him. He was too tired to move but the man nudged him, holding him up in a sitting position as the man who had spoken continued.

"You want more of this, don't you?" The man held up a syringe filled with a vile yellow liquid. Neal felt a tinge of fear, stiffening slightly but he was held in place between the two men, watching a finger tap at the needle.

"This version is just a bit different though. Hold him tight!"

Neal could only watch helplessly as the man stuck the needle into his arm and injected more of the drug into his system. It didn't burn this time but he felt another feeling: euphoria, his heart racing slightly as his pulse quickened. He trembled and struggled but the man held him fast. Finally the euphoria turned to a sleepy feeling as his eyes rolled back into his head. Someone patted him on the shoulder.

"When you wake up, you'll only remember what you need to." The man's voice continued past that point but Neal's consciousness had already faded to black.

**()()()**

_Neal remained unconscious, his mind still feeling guilty for what he had done to Elizabeth. His guilt laced his dreams and memories as he lay trapped there. His mind went back nearly a month when he had finally been able to rescue his friend._

Nearly three weeks had passed since Peter's kidnapping. Neal had healed from the crack to his head but was otherwise occupied in finding his friend. Mozzie had managed to scope out the warehouse they had found near Long Island. It looked like Peter was there but Neal still had the problem of trying to get there when it was out of his radius. He had talked to Hughes after much consideration and let him know what he had found. The older agent listened to what he had to say, looking a bit grimmer than he had hoped.

"I'm sorry Caffrey. We can't just get a search warrant based off unofficial intel. I know that's not what you wanted to hear, it's not what I wanted to hear. I think you have something there but on paper the company looks legit and in all respects is legit. I'm sorry. I'll do what I can to get surveillance on the premises but at this point, considering the source, nobody will give us a search warrant for this." Hughes sounded tired if not frustrated.

It had been too long since Peter's disappearance and no news on whether or not the agent was alive or dead. Neal thought about Elizabeth all alone in the house she shared with Peter. She had Satchmo, and an agent was staying with her but when he would visit, she was always a bit distance, her blue eyes watery with tears. He never knew what to say thinking about his own experience with Kate. What could he say? He didn't want to have to say anything. Peter should be here with her if anyone was to be here. Why hadn't they taken him instead?

Neal gave a sigh, his brow furrowing. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Hughes standing beside him.

"I know you're worried about him. I am too. We can only hope that the people holding him, if it is Friscinetti will let him go soon or..." He paused not wanting to say the inevitable. Neal stood up and glared at no one in particular. He was angry with the situation. He wanted to go get his friend but he was bound by duty under his contract with the FBI and his anklet. Still he had a greater duty to his friend that superseded everything else. He had to help Elizabeth and Peter.

They both looked up as the phone rang. Neal slowly turned to leave the office as Hughes sighed and waved him off. He started to close the door behind him but not before he heard something interesting.

"Who is this? This better not be a prank!" Hughes sounded upset, Neal turning back and peering inside. He saw the agent motion him back into the room and hold up a hand for silence.

"Demands? Are you saying you have our agent and he's alive? I want to hear Burke's voice. Give me proof you have my agent." Hughes was trying not to bark but his voice carried and Neal felt a presence behind him turning to see Diana. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and listened intently as Hughes continued to talk, making a motion at her to track the call. She nodded without a word as she disappeared back downstairs. Neal remained standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation.

Hughes was silent suddenly, his face paling some then he barked again.

"Hello? Hello? Dammit! Tell me we got a trace on that call, Diana?" Hughes had stood up and walked over to the door, pushing gently past Neal and yelling across the office. Diana shrugged helplessly, Jones doing the same as Neal continued to watch the scene.

_Peter was alive?_

He felt a weight start to lift if only a little. He didn't want to hope too much but he had to in this case. He wanted it to be real. Hughes turned back to him as Diana handed him a report of what they did manage to find.

"Caffrey, seems you may have been right about that warehouse. I'm sorry about regulations but I think now that we have confirmation we can arrange for a tour of the place. Be here promptly at 9 am tomorrow. Jones! Make an appointment for us to tour the _Cordoba Cardio Complex_ warehouse tomorrow morning. Don't take no for an answer!"

**()()()**

Neal paced his apartment, unable to relax. He wanted to go to the warehouse now but had to wait till the morning. By then Peter could have been moved and it wouldn't matter if his captors had kept him alive. If they were spooked by the Feds, Peter might never be found.

He continued to pace the floor until a knock broke the silence and his thoughts. Neal paused, walking over to listen.

"June?"

He heard silence and then a quiet but familiar voice.

"It's Elizabeth. May I come in?"

Neal blinked, unlocking the door and opening it to see Elizabeth Burke standing there. She sniffled a bit, her eyes pink from lack of sleep and crying, he thought. El tried to put up a good front but without Peter around she felt lost and when he had visited with her, she would do her best to ask him about the investigation. She guessed he was doing his own research but until today, there had been on confirmations. Now that Hughes had made it official, he hoped it wouldn't cause any problems. Friscinetti's men had made contact but had not finished making their demands.

"El... come in. Everything ok?" He noticed the agent below when he peered down the stairs. June looked up at him indicating they were ok to be alone. She started to chat up the agent below as Neal closed the door and El made her way around the room, roaming out onto the terrace at some point. She made her way to the edge and glanced over. She seemed to be avoiding something but he wasn't sure what.

"Neal... Hughes told me they called today. Peter's captors." She didn't turn around as she spoke, her back to him as she continued to stare out across the city probably wondering where in this mass of glass and metal Peter was being held. He had been doing much of that himself lately. He ran a hand through his hair and move beside her, leaning on the wall and looking at her with a quick nod.

"Yes... they hung up before they could make any demands. I think they knew Hughes had a trace." He wasn't sure what else to say but she had already held up a hand as she saw him trying to speak again.

"Actually, they called back after you left. Hughes just contacted me. That's why I'm here. They're demanding 5 million for his return." Her voice choked not just on the fact of the ransom but knowing Peter was alive and possibly well. She trembled slightly, her sniffles getting more evident as Neal pulled her into a light hug and let her cry. He didn't know what to do. They had finally made demands now, after so many weeks of worry and dread and what could he do? He wondered if anything could be liquidated quickly enough to help his friend without implicating him although at this point he didn't care. Peter had to be rescued.

El pulled herself away from him after a moment, wiping at her eyes.

"Hughes... he said they want me to bring the cash. He's going to see what they can do about raising the money and if they can bring the price down. What if..." She started to shake as she cried yet again, Neal leading her back inside to the sofa and sitting her down. He found a throw and wrapped it around her as he walked to the kitchenette and poured them both a glass of wine before coming back. She took the glass but stared at it a while before finally taking a sip.

"They can't let you do that! I'll tell Hughes to let me take your place." He stopped there before he could say: _in case they take you too._

He wanted to keep her safe, pulling out his phone to call Hughes and ask for details when it rang. He glanced down at the number and pushed it to his ear.

"_Neal... They moved the Suit! I'm following but it looks like they moved him to that building on your end of the map. I think it's time to put our plan into action if you're up to it._" Mozzie's voice was excited, Neal nodding without saying a word. He was lost in thought as the words hit him.

"_Neal? You there?_"

Neal blinked, distracted by thoughts of rescuing his friend. At least now they knew Peter was alive. Should he tell Elizabeth? He saw her looking at the glass of wine and then him. He tried to fake a confident smile but wasn't feeling it.

"Yeah... come by later. We'll discuss it." Neal hung up the phone and pushed it back into his pocket. He felt a hand on his shoulder startling him back to the here and now. El was looking at him.

"Was that Mozzie?" She asked him as if knowing something was up but what could he tell her till he knew for certain.

"Yeah." He left it at that, smiling at her as he held her hand.

"Let me call Hughes and tell him I'll take your place with the exchange. When is it supposed to take place?"

**()()()**

It was a few hours later when Elizabeth had finally gone and Mozzie showed up. The little guy was all worked up and he looked a bit nervous as he walked inside and locked the door behind him.

"I don't think they know I was tailing them but never know. I was a bit freaked out. Friscinetti's men aren't the nicest looking. Anywho... I have intel. They left something there, I suspect it was the Suit and then all but two of the men left so he's guarded and they had some big guns." Mozzie's voice cracked on the last part, Neal feeling none too confident with the intel.

"Thanks, Mozz. I'm glad you're safe. Can you run point for me across the street tomorrow. They're supposed to have me take the ransom in a few days time but I guess they moved him for the tour tomorrow. After the tour, I'll meet you at the other building. If I can get Peter... that's all I need to do." He sounded far more confident than he felt, Mozz glancing at him with a curious look.

"So how did El take the news?" He looked concerned, Neal frowning a bit.

"She seemed happy enough. I know when I heard Hughes on the phone I was just happy to hear Peter was still alive. It's been almost a month!" He got up and started to pace again, Mozzie frowning.

"I'm surprised it took Friscinetti so long to ask for a ransom. Do you find any of this suspicious? He's never let any one loose before... well let me rephrase that: Those he has let loose weren't the same again. One cop killed his partner and another... I won't even tell you what happened!" His eyes were wide at the thought of whatever he wasn't saying, the tone worrying Neal. His gut was telling him something was wrong but he had to do what he could to save Peter and bring him home if it meant taking a ransom or sneaking in and getting him.

"I don't care. Peter's alive and we're going to make sure he stays that way. Mozz, let me see those plans for the building."


	8. Chapter 8

**(Chapter 8)**

Peter slept fitfully, his mind playing back what had happened to him while under Friscinetti's capture. He was only vaguely aware that someone held him close, talking softly to him. It was that feeling that gave him some distance from the scene as he had in the sessions with Dr. Erickson. Still, he was back in that horrible place, watching as the mobster's men strapped him down securely to that wooden plank. He felt as well as saw the tubing stuck down his nose, the water flowing through it just fast enough to make him struggle to breath. His mouth was stuck open and he was unable to do more than gasp as he tried to keep from drowning.

He woke up suddenly, eyes popping open. Peter sat up after a moment and looked around. He found himself in an unfamiliar space then realized it was Neal's apartment. He was on the sofa, a light blanket over him. Someone breathed softly in the background and he looked across the room to see Elizabeth asleep on Neal's bed. He started to rise when he heard a soft cough and turned to see Mozzie sitting at the table watching him. The little guy made a motion for him to follow him outside onto the terrace. Mozzie closed the doors softly and they sat at the patio table.

"Still having nightmares about what happened?" Mozzie's voice was matter of fact but Peter sensed a bit of concern there. He nodded, wiping at his face tiredly and staring back through the glass doors to the interior. He was concerned for his wife as well as his own well-being. He wasn't himself and these episodes could be dangerous if he didn't catch himself the next time. Friscinetti's warning about hurting someone came back clearly in his mind. He was vulnerable and compromised. Peter didn't want to hurt his wife but he didn't want to be without her. He sighed in frustration unsure of what he should do.

"Mozzie, we need to find Neal but... I need a place to stay. I'll see if El can stay here with June. She'll be safe." He emphasized the last part and saw Mozzie's eyes widened as he nodded in understanding.

"I think I can find you a place if you really think that's best."

**()()()**

Neal woke up tired and sore, his mind still very hazy. His eyes fluttered opened after a few minutes and glanced around a small gray room. The walls were corrugated metal with rafters overhead leading to a high peaked roof that indicated he was in a smaller room built into a much larger structure. His blue eyes looked around the room curiously before moving back to see what he was lying on. Neal found himself strapped down to a gurney, an IV stuck into his arm. Yellow liquid dripped slowly through the tubing from a bag off to his side. His eyes viewed it without much emotion, his eyes closing not too soon after as he swallowed, feeling something stuffed into his mouth. His lips were covered with tape but again, he was so out of it he didn't seem to care, not even trying to escape as he passed into a drug induced sleep once more.

_**Voice 1:** You think he'll come looking here? Boss says he will._

_**Voice 2:** Yeah, the agent looks out for him. We'll take of both of them out. Still wondering who it was tailed us that last time. Didn't get a good look at the guy but he had glasses. If I see him again, he's disappearing._

Neal heard the second voice laugh derisively, his mind too far gone to really understand the context of the conversation. Someone closed a door with a quiet clang and he continued to float there in a kind of half-conscious daze. The silence was too much after a while and his mind started to draw out a scene of something familiar to occupy him.

He found himself back at his apartment at June's. Neal was enjoying a glass of wine but he was alone. He looked up briefly at the terrace doors, noticing movement outside. His eyes widened, Neal standing as he dropped the glass to the table and moved to open up the doors. Nobody was there. Neal glanced around, the terrace empty. He sighed thinking he had seen her but it couldn't have been.

_Neal..._

He looked around, hearing her voice but where...

_Over here Neal..._

He saw Kate standing near the far wall. Neal walked towards her but she moved further back. He didn't notice he was climbing up onto the wall and statuary to follow her. She motioned for him to follow, his eyes peering down at the ground below. He felt fear but she kept talking to him.

_It's ok Neal... follow me._

He was reaching for her outstretched hand, his right foot moving out into open air when someone pulled him away from the edge and he fell back to the terrace. Someone broke his fall and he looked to see that Peter was there. He stood up, moving back to the wall but Kate was gone.

"_**KATE! KATE!**_" He was screaming but she was gone. He turned and saw Peter slowly pushing himself up to his feet. He walked back and smacked his friend with his open palm in the chest.

"_**Why? You made her go away! It's all your fault she's gone! Leave me alone!**_" Neal kept pushing at the agent who finally grabbed his hand and held it before he could hit him again.

"_**Neal, listen to yourself! Kate is gone. It was nobody's fault. I'm not going to let you kill yourself over a ghost! Come inside so we can talk about this...**_" Peter put his hands up as Neal pulled out the gun from before. It was the same weapon he had taken Elizabeth hostage with. He held it steady in his hands pointed directly at Peter.

"_**No... no more talking! You kept things from me. You lied! Now she's dead and I should have died too! Leave me alone!**_" Neal saw Peter move forward slowly, his hands up in view but he panicked and the gun went off.

"_**Neal?**_" Peter's face went ashen as a large red stain appeared on his chest through his dress shirt and jacket. Neal's eyes widened as he saw his friend collapsed to the floor, the smoking gun in his hand.

"_**No... I... it was an accident... Peter? Peter... PETER!**_"

**()()()**

Neal was screaming, yelling and thrashing in his sleep, the straps on the gurney just holding him. Someone sat nearby and watched silently, a smirk on their face.

"I think he's almost ready. Stop the drip to be sure. He'll be more than prepared and everything will be taken care of.

**()()()**

It had been less than 24 hours since Neal had vanished. Peter was staying at one of Mozzie's places, a small loft in the middle of town. It wasn't the Ritz but it was ok. He didn't tell Elizabeth where he was going but left June a note for his wife to let her know he was ok and would be back when he was more himself. An agent stayed with them for security as he reluctantly left El asleep in Neal's room, kissing her cheek as he exited.

Peter sat on the small cot and hunched over deep in thought. He reached into his pocket and saw the pills there, the little amber bottle calling him. He had already had a couple but his nerves were still jangled despite everything. His physical wounds were more healed than his mental ones as he tried to remember what the good doctor had told him to do when he felt scared. It was hard for him to cope, never having been this scared in his life. Peter felt so out of control of his actions.

"Suit..." Mozzie's voice just sort of happened, making him jump and almost flip the cot over. He was standing there looking about as frightened as a rabbit. Mozz looked about the same, his hands up defensively.

"Mozz... don't do that!" Peter started to calm down, reaching for the pills again and walking over to the bathroom in the corner. He grabbed a disposable cup and filled it as he took another two pills and washed them down. Mozz was watching him curiously.

"Be careful with those, Suit. Didn't you already take two?" The little guy was watching him curiously but Peter ignored it. He wasn't in the mood to be told what he should do.

"Did you find anything out about Neal's location?" Peter walked back out, his head feeling a bit fuzzy but at least he was calm. He sat back on the cot and yawned. Mozz pulled up a chair and nodded.

"He's at the same place they were holding you. It's pretty well fortified but I think I may have found a back way in if you're intent on rescuing him." Mozzie sounded worried, shifting his weight nervously. Peter barely noticed as the drugs kicked in.

"Yeah, I am. He kept El safe. I have to do something." Peter felt sleepy, his eyes heavy but he was jarred to a slightly more wakeful nature as his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, pushing it to his ear.

"_Peter..._" The voice was weak but he recognized it.

"Neal? Neal where are you?" He wasn't sure how concerned he sounded, the pills making him calmer than he should be. Peter listened, hearing labored breathing on the other end.

"_Peter... I'm cold. Help... me. Please... Peter..._" Neal's voice was trailing off, the sound of something falling with a clatter to the floor or cement. Peter kept listening, calling out to his friend but only heard Neal's labored breathing. He turned to see Mozzie staring at him.

"Mozz... it's Neal. He's hurt. Can you trace it?" Peter was worried but the drugs were making it hard for him to stay awake. He did his best to fight the sleepiness overcoming him as he handed the phone to the other man. Mozz nodded, pulling something out of the bag around his shoulder and plugging something into Peter's phone. He pushed a few buttons on the device and it beeped a moment then made a little '_victory_' type sound like you heard in video games. He watched Mozzie smile like a kid on Christmas.

"Found him, Suit. He's not too far from here... the place he found you at." Mozzie smiled slightly, Peter nodding as he tried to stand but he was too dizzy, the pills coursing through his system as he sat back on the cot. Mozzie touched his shoulder.

"Suit, you ok? Let me call one of your friends... The other suits can do this..." He didn't finish as Peter finally rose, if not a bit shakily.

"No... I can do this. Just... give me a moment." Peter stood unsteadily on his feet but he was calm, all his fear gone and that's what he wanted wasn't it? He could deal now. Mozz looked at him and nodded.

"Well if you don't mind, I need to make a quick call. There's coffee on the stove." Mozzie pointed as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Peter walked over to the kitchenette slowly, the room seemingly swaying but he had to stay awake if Neal was going to live. He reached for the coffee pot on the stove, his hand trembling and stopped himself before he could knock it over.

"Get a hold of yourself, Burke. You have to be awake for this not just calm." Peter sighed, moving away from the stove and instead pouring himself a glass of water as he made his way back to the cot and lay down. He was no good to Neal in his current state although his anxiety was gone with the pills, his body was practically comatose. He heard the door open and looked up to see Mozzie staring at him.

"Mozzie... I can't do this. Can you call Jones or Diana for me?" He hated to admit defeat but for Neal's sake he would. He saw Mozz nod, a nervous look on his face.

"Sure but... I already called them. Lady Suit said she'd be here in 10 minutes. Other Suit is right behind her." He shrugged as Peter blinked at him but smiled.

"Thanks. I think I'm going to sleep. Wake me when they get here."

**()()()**

Neal lay on the floor of the dusty tenement, the cool wooden boards rough against his bare cheek. Someone stepped close beside him and hung up his cell phone.

"I think that's long enough for your friends to track you. I think Agent Burke will come for you, don't you?" The voice was cold, menacing as it spoke to him in the dimly lit room. A hand roughly touched his hair and smoothed it, cool metal of rings on their fingers scraping at his scalp. He tried to move away from the hand but was too tired to do so.

"Please..." Neal's voice was weak but he begged, his voice breathless but pleading to the unseen figure. They nodded, making a motion to two other figures who lifted the young man up and sat him against the wall. Neal slumped as one of them held him upright while the other tied a piece of tubing around his arm tightly. His eyes, listless and glassy stared at the figure as they held up a needle and tapped the base.

"You want more of this don't you?" The third man, the one who had been talking to him spoke while the others were silent. Neal felt himself nodding despite everything. He hurt and he didn't want to hurt anymore. His body succumbing to the drug made him weak as he knew he should fight but his mind had been altered by Friscinetti's drug.

"Just give him a taste. We have to be sure he'll perform and then he'll get whatever he wants." The man patted him on the head a moment before the two men held him and injected the needle. Neal winced, body arching in agony before he slid to the ground and lay there shuddering.

"Leave him. His friend will be joining him in a little while."

**()()()**

Peter felt someone nudge him, his body slowly waking up as he gazed up and saw Diana sitting beside him.

"Hey Boss... how are you feeling?" She looked worried, glancing around the junkie apartment. He wiped at his eyes and smiled sleepily.

"It was just temporary. I'm not quite myself at the moment. How's El?" He didn't want to ask but he missed his wife even if he didn't trust himself around her at the moment. Diana patted him on the shoulder.

"She was asking about you but we didn't know where you were till Neal's friend phoned. I hear he called you. You have a location?" She helped him sit up as Peter tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes, nodding.

"Yeah, Mozz traced the call. Same place I was found. I don't know how much longer he has or if he's alone. Did Dr. Jacobs find a cure for the drug?" He watched her face and was surprised when she nodded.

"He said he's only seen a few cases but didn't recognize it till you sent him Mozz's little recipe he found online. He thinks he can reverse the effects but it has to be soon. If Neal doesn't detox within a certain time the symptoms will be worse." She sounded just as worried, helping him to his feet as she handed him a cup of something that smelled heavenly.

"Coffee... thank you Diana. Hey Jones." He saw the other agent walk in and wave, pulling up another chair. Mozz entered behind him with a slightly less than happy look on his face.

"Great... a suit convention. If you need me, I'll be outside." He shuffled outside as the three talked about how to get in and find Neal. Peter discovered he had been sleeping for three hours, Hughes giving them permission to storm the place if they had to but it would have to be with a minimal of men considering the circumstances. It was all he could allow with the higher ups breathing down his back about saving an ex-con who took an agent's wife hostage. Peter cursed when he heard that.

"I know Hughes isn't responsible... but they know Friscinetti's the one behind all of this, right? They can't be blind to his past. How many more agents or cops are going to go through this before he's put away?" Peter stood up and paced the small area, sipping at the coffee as he did. He didn't want anyone else to go through what he had. Friscinetti had to be put down and it had to be now. He heard movement and saw Jones and Diana stand up.

"We're here Boss. What do you want us to do?" Jones was obviously ready to fight the battle, his grin evidence of that. Peter smiled back.

"Go find Neal. You have the address. I can't do this while I'm in this state. I'll be at June's. Keep me up to date."

Diana and Jones nodded, leaving the apartment. Peter started to pack up the few things he had brought and pulled the bag over his shoulder as Mozzie walked inside again.

"You're leaving, Suit? What about Neal? You can't just abandon him!" Mozzie sounded upset but Peter shook his head.

"Diana and Jones can handle it. I'm not... ready." Peter felt his face flush as he pushed past, pausing a moment then leaving to catch a cab.

**()()()**

Peter walked out to the corner and waited, but there were no cabs. He pulled out his cell and started to call for one when he felt cool metal on the back of his neck.

"Need a ride, Fed? There's a car waiting for you right here." He heard the familiar voice, the gun pushed against his skin as a dark sedan pulled up.

"Get inside!"

Peter felt himself pushed inside, another figure within also holding a gun. He held up his hands as he slid inside the vehicle, the other man coming up behind him and closing the door as the car took off. There was a dark partition between the front and back which promptly lowered.

"Ah, Agent Burke. So nice to see you again. We thought you might want to go visit your CONsultant. He's waiting for you." Friscinetti's voice oozed slickly from the front seat, Peter grimacing at the man as he felt his arms pulled back behind him and cuffed tightly.

"We thought it would be nice to reunite the two of you. You have so much to discuss." The mobster made a motion and Peter felt a hand cover his nose and mouth with a foul smelling rag. He was still somewhat dazed by the prescription he'd taken earlier so the drug worked faster, his body immediately going slack, eyes fluttering closed.


	9. Chapter 9

**(Chapter 9)**

Neal was only vaguely aware of the sounds around him, eyes opening. He managed to sit up against the wall, his vision blurring in and out of focus on his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, almost dark. He could just make out a door at the far corner, the muffled sound of voices on the other side. He managed to push himself to his feet and stumble towards the door, leaning against it heavily as he caught his breath.

He had to get out of here before Peter came for him. He felt around in his pockets but they had taken his phone. Neal cursed his weakness, his arm itchy where they had injected him the last time. He scratched at it as if he could tear the vile liquid from his arm that way but stopped when he started to see his skin bleed.

_Peter... Don't find me. Please..._

Neal finally slid down to the floor and slumped against the door, his breath coming hard. He needed to figure a way out of here and warn Peter but his body wasn't obeying him. He scratched at the injection spot again, his skin tearing beneath his nails. Neal could almost hear the voices now, pressing his head heavily against the wooden panel.

"_I think every thing's ready. We let nature take its course and when the Feds arrive, we're long gone from here. Hurry up and finish! This needs to look good._" Friscinetti's voice spoke clearly from the other side, Neal feeling a kind of impotent rage at the man he couldn't put in words. He felt one hand clench ever so slightly.

**()()()**

Peter woke up to his worse nightmare. He immediately began to struggle but his arms were bound behind him around the cot he was tied to. It was bolted to the floor as he felt straps pulled around him to hold him even more securely. He heard a soft scraping noise turning to see a large water cooler looking vat moved closer to the cot. His brow was suddenly covered in sweat as he knew was was about to happen, pulling harder on the straps but unable to do anything but watch as he saw the two goons from before attach the tubing yet again. Friscinetti stood within eye sight chuckling.

"What would you do Agent Burke to NOT go through this again? Would you kill someone? Would you let another person die in your place?" The mobster moved a bit closer, crouching at his side.

"Would you drown yourself in pills so you won't hurt the ones you love?" The man seemed to know everything about Peter, the agent gazing up at Friscinetti with a curious glance. The mobster just smiled back mirthlessly as he made a motion and the men held Peter down and pushed the tubing into his nostrils. He tried to fight them but the tubing just pressed further down his sinuses till they stopped just short of his throat.

"Drowning... always been a fascination of mine. The ocean, the sea... water taking back what it gave birth to. Men are said to come from the primordial muck that is now our oceans. Consider this your ticket back home, Agent Burke." The mobster continued to smile coldly. Peter struggled to breath, his mouth full of rags and taped shut. He swallowed hard, the tubing making it hard to draw air but he managed for the moment.

"If your friend has any sense, he'll come out here and save you but I think your little CONsultant is thinking of himself right now. It's interesting how selfish men are when lost in our own pain. You're both so very helpless to yourselves and any others. Enjoy what time you have left." Friscinetti patted Peter on the shoulder, standing up with a wave of his hand as the other men left but not before one had turned the water on. It flowed slowly down the tube towards Peter, the feeling of air being pushed through as the water descended apparent in his sinuses as his eyes watered from the pressure. He shifted slightly at the discomfort, the straps holding him tight.

He wondered if Diana and Jones would find him in time. They were headed this way but he wasn't in the same place. Before he had been on the 3rd floor but now he was in the basement. He saw the stairs off to the side just out of the corner of his eye. There was a door opposite them where he had heard sounds but wasn't sure from who or what. He had closed his eyes tight against the pressure in his head when he heard it. Peter opened his eyes and glanced towards his jacket pocket. He felt the buzzing of his phone and heard it through the rush of blood in his head. Someone was calling him but he couldn't reach for it.

Peter continued to stare, his vision hazing over some as he stared nearly cross-eyed as the water filled the tubing and he felt the cool liquid start to draw nearer. He choked as the water filled his sinuses and flowed down the back of his throat. His body shuddered as he tried not to breath it in but could only let it flow where it would. His eyes shut in pain, his struggles becoming more apparent as the water flowed freely.

Someone touched his right hand but he was too far gone as the water filled his mouth and he choked unable to spit it out. They reached into his pocket and took the phone as he felt the vibration stop and he felt his lungs give in as water filled them and he passed out.

**()()()**

Neal listened to the conversation on the other side of the door, a part of him wanting to help but he was too far gone to do so. He kept scratching at his arm, his nails bloody now. Neal looked down with nothing more than a blank stare at the wound he had made. Normally something like this would horrify him but the drugs had made him complacent. He wanted the stuff out of him but it was there and he was only able to hurt himself, the pain actually starting to wake him from the worse of the effects.

_Cowboy up, Neal!_

Neal jerked his head up and looked around.

_We all have to do things we dislike. Deal with it!_

He heard the voice clearly in his head as he glanced up at the knob and used it to slowly pull himself upright. The other side of the door was quiet now as he leaned against the wall by the door and turned the knob. The door squeaked open a bit more noisily than he liked, the sound making him wince but not so much as the brightness of the room next door. He covered his eyes and took a moment to adjust as he stumbled into the room.

The room was slightly bigger than the one he had been in, empty of all but an old water heater, wooden stairs leading up and out, a large water cooler or vat of water and a figure on a cot. His eyes locked onto the figure and cot as he moved slowly forward. There was a buzzing sound like a bee and he reached towards the figure and pulled something out of their pocket. It was a cell phone, the buzzing coming from it as he pushed it to his ear and listened.

"_Peter? It's Diana... where are you? Peter? (he's not answering!)_" Neal kept listening as the voices kept on and he heard the words "_tracing_." He was too tired to speak, leaving the phone connected as he dropped it into his pocket and crouched down beside the figure on the cot.

The figure had stopped moving, their face ashen, cheeks slightly flushed. Neal looked at them closer as if trying to figure something out. His eyes followed the tubing from their face back to the water cooler looking device which bubbled as water continued to flow out of the vat and into the figure. He reached down and pulled the tubing from the person's nose, water dripping out steadily as he dropped it to the floor. He noticed the tape over their lips and carefully removed it along with several rags he found in their mouth. Liquid dribbled from their nose and mouth, something he knew was wrong but his mind still wasn't working right.

Neal's eyes continued to study the figure a moment, his hands deftly removing the straps and cuffs holding them in place. They remained unmoving, eyes shut tight but he finished freeing them before he felt their neck and blinked. There was a pulse there if only a weak one. Slowly he pushed his lips to the figure's and started to blow air into their lungs. The figure didn't move but he kept on, his mind working on auto pilot as he continued to push air into their mouth. Finally he felt a slight resistance and a sputter as water flowed out and up. He moved back and watched as their body sat up a bit, rolling off the cot to the floor as they coughed up more water and finally collapsed there in a heap. He felt a ghost of a smile form on his lips as he moved closer to them. They were breathing, a wheezing sound coming from them but they were alive. His hand reached over and gently mussed the man's hair as he collapsed near by and closed his own eyes.

**()()()**

Diana heard breathing on the other side of the phone but nobody was speaking. She turned to Jones as they prepared to enter the apparently abandoned building. They had a small SWAT squad with them just in case of resistance. They pushed the doors open and rushed in swarming the first floor and moving up around the many levels but finding nothing.

"Mozz and Peter were sure Caffrey was here. They couldn't have been mistaken. This just seems too convenient. Try calling Peter's phone again. Did we get a trace?" Jones asked as he spoke into his head piece, Diana had come back to where he was near the entrance. The rest of the crew swarmed still looking through the few areas of the apparently empty building. They heard the dialing sound on and then soft answering ring. Both agents perked up and listened.

"Everyone quiet a moment! Listen!" Diana called out and they were quiet enough that the far off ring tone was just obvious and below them. The two agents made a motion and started to follow the sound till they found a hidden door. Jones pulled it open jumping back but nothing happened. SWAT went down ahead as they followed and someone called up they had found them.

"Them? I thought Neal was the only one here. Oh my God... Peter! Someone call paramedics down here STAT!" Diana and Jones ran to their boss and Neal's aid, the two figures laying deathly still on the stone floor of the basement. Jones managed to get a low groan out of Peter but Neal remained quiet, his skin cool to the touch as Diana checked him. She saw the nasty wound on his left arm where he had been scratching at the injection site. It looked infected.

"Dammit... Where are those paramedics?" She turned looking around as she took off her jacket and pushed it under Neal's head and Jones did the same with Peter. Both men were in pretty bad shape. Soon the medics had rushed down the stairs with two stretchers, Diana and Jones moving aside to let them check the two men.

It didn't take long before Peter and Neal were upstairs and being pushed into an ambulance. Peter was put on an IV drip while Neal had a respirator over his face, his lips looking a little darker than normal. Diana rode with them while Jones stayed behind to keep her up to date. She watched the paramedics working on both, Neal apparently the worse of the two, his heart stopping at some point but they got it back up. She worried about the younger man knowing that if something happened to him Peter would blame himself. Diana was still worried that Friscinetti would try something again. He had managed to get around their defenses once too many times and Hughes was arranging for some private quarters in a clinic safe house just outside of town. She was thinking about it when her cell rang.

"Barrigan. Yes sir... we're headed for the hospital now. Caffrey is in bad condition but Peter seems to be holding up pretty good. Yes..." She nodded a few times then spoke once more.

"Not a problem. I'll call you from the waiting room once we're there." She hung up the cell, the paramedics looking at her curiously while they continued to monitor both of her colleagues' conditions. Neal looked ashen while Peter's color had seemed to improve. She just hoped they were in time to get Dr. Jacobs antidote to Neal. There had only been a small window to put the serum in that would help reverse the worse of the drug's effects. Neal would still have withdrawals but they should be less severe than they had been the first time around.

She sighed as the ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. Her cell rang once more, a glance from the medics telling her to make it short. She nodded and picked up.

"Barrigan... Elizabeth? We're heading for St. Mary's. You can meet us there. I'll be in the waiting room once they're out. I'm sorry." She felt her eyes water as she talked to Peter's wife, a sense of relief and grief overcoming her. How would she feel to know Christie had been hurt? She sighed sadly and after a moment hung up as they finished. The ambulance was slowing. Now came the hard part.

**()()()**

Peter woke up two days later, his color had returned to normal by then and he sounded a bit congested from his experience but was otherwise ok. Dr. Jacobs said he was doing well considering. Dr. Erickson visited once Peter was alert enough to answer questions. Neal had yet to wake up, his body responding to the antidote but still going through withdrawals. They hadn't needed to strap him down this time around, Dr. Jacobs keeping him in a medicine induced coma to keep him from hurting himself. He was unconscious and slowly healing they hoped, El and June visiting him as much as possible.

El sat by Peter's bedside, three more days having passed. They had moved him to a private clinic along with Neal. Dr. Erickson and Jacobs were there to monitor them, agents guarding the safe house. El stayed in one of the spare rooms feeling a bit cooped up but not complaining so long as she was able to visit with her husband. They were all under FBI watch in case Friscinetti tried anything. They weren't taking any chances this time around, Hughes in touch with Diana, Jones and Peter. They were still looking for the mobster but had no idea where he was hiding the Cordoba Cardio Complex catching fire mysteriously along with the abandoned tenement they had found Peter and Neal at. Any evidence that could have been found was gone and it was suspected arson under the circumstance.

Peter sighed, holding his wife's hand and looking worried. She was patting his shoulder with her free hand, moving closer to kiss him.

"It's ok, Peter. They're sending two agents with me. I'll be safe. I have to take care of this client and then I'll be back. Just an hour at best." She turned after a moment, walked over to the small fridge in the room and opened it coming back.

"I made your favorite. You can eat them for lunch." She handed the bag to him and he smiled as he opened it up and a whiff of devilled ham wafted out. He looked at her and hugged his wife tightly.

"Just call me. I have my phone and you have yours. Ok?" He kissed her again and she nodded with a smile.

"Of course. Now rest. Doctor says you're more than capable of going home but I want you to rest. When I get back we can visit with Neal. June's going to drop some stuff off with me for Neal after the client meeting. Be good, Peter." She kissed him again and left the room with a little wave. Peter sighed once she was out of sight, unfolding and refolding the bag over and over till he finally stopped and put it aside. He really wasn't hungry anymore. He was worried about his wife and he wanted to go see Neal. He wasn't hooked up to any IVs or anything else for the last day or two since Dr. Jacobs had given him a clean bill of health.

Peter rolled out of bed and paced the room in his socks. The floor felt cool through his white socks, the air a bit chilly but he didn't really notice as he continued to pace and think. He felt clearer than he had in a while. They no longer had him on the prescription, Dr. Jacobs thinking it had been too much medicine for his condition and now he felt better. He was feeling less anxious on the new meds which he only took once a day now. Dr. Erickson seemed happy enough too, their last session going quite well.

After a few minutes of pacing, Peter pulled his robe around him and slipped on some loafers El had bought him for his stay. They were comfortable and soft but more indoor than outdoor shoes, just perfect for their stay. He opened the door and glanced outside the guard peering up at him.

"I need to go talk to Dr. Erickson, I'll be right back." He watched the agent nod at him and go back to reading the paper. The place was enclosed so he didn't have to worry about the agent needing to follow him around the place, it was remote enough nobody was going to break in. He padded down the hall in his robe and slippers feeling a bit silly but it was technically a clinic and so he had to be in his sleep pants and shirt while he was inside. Peter was annoyed by the requirement but glad he was finally safe enough to heal and rest, Neal not too far down the hall he could visit.

Peter stopped by the office but the door was locked and nobody answered. Maybe the doctor stepped out? He shrugged turning to head back when he thought maybe he'd just go see Neal. The younger man had been unconscious since their arrival and they had kept him in a drug induced coma to ensure he would heal with little interruption. The agent padded down the hall quietly as he stopped before a certain door and quietly opened it. He paused as the door shut behind him with a quiet click, his eyes a bit watery as he wiped at them. Peter made his way towards the figure laying still on the bed, a respirator firmly planted over their face as machines hissed and beeped quietly around their sleeping form.

"Neal?" Peter sat down at the chair by the bed and took Neal's left hand in his, the young man's hand looking small and fragile in comparison to his own. He sighed and held the thin artistic fingers in his own larger hand, Neal's skin cooler to the touch. Peter tried to think what to say, his mind drawing a blank. The younger man had saved him twice and spared his wife from Friscinetti despite his own demons. Neither of them deserved this especially Neal. Hughes mentioned the higher ups discussing the kidnapping of Elizabeth as a possible breaking of Caffrey's parole with Burke but considering the circumstances, they had to understand he had been coerced by outside forces. Peter cursed to himself, running a hand through his hair and standing up. He mussed the young man's hair gently before he walked over to the small bathroom and closed the door.

Peter washed his face and smoothed back his own hair looking at his tired face in the mirror. He barely recognized himself. He wasn't sickly looking but he had a few bags under his eyes from the past month or so. The experience was something he hoped to never repeat again once they were done with everything, Neal healed up and Friscinetti behind bars for a long time. He splashed a bit more water on his face, turning off the faucet and drying his face when he heard voices.

"_What do you mean he's not in his room? Find him and when you do, bring him here! This one should be easier to corral. He's already unconscious. Help me unhook all these wires and monitors. We'll hook them up to the unconscious agent here and nobody will be the wiser till they come check in person. Hurry up!_"

Peter held his breath unsure what to do as he heard what was happening just outside. It sounded like the same men who had taken them the previously times. He had to be imagining it but his ears weren't lying to him he realized when he heard them continue to talk outside. He wondered how they had gotten into the complex when he saw the door knob start to turn. Dammit!

**()()()**

"For a government run facility, these bathrooms are pretty fancy. I'd like to stay here for a bit if I were sick." Friscinetti's henchman walked into the bathroom and looked around the roomy bathroom, looking at the sink curiously and the closed shower curtain before leaving.

"You were just being paranoid. No body's hiding in the bathroom. You really need to stop watching those late night horror movies already. I'm sick of hearing you pace at night." Friscinetti's man was still talking to the other before their voices grew quiet and the sound of the outer room door closing was evident.

A few minutes passed and Peter peered out from behind the closed curtain and stepped from the shower. He looked both relieved and slightly panicked all at once. He reached into his robe pocket and saw his phone wasn't there. He had left it back in the room when he left. He cursed looking around the room but seeing nothing but a phone that he knew only took inside calls between the clinic staff and rooms. He needed a cell or outside line and would have to leave the room to get one. Peter reached for the phone and paged the one number he thought might be safe. The line rang for a few before someone finally picked up.

"Front office... who is this?" Peter was about to say something when he realized it was one of the men who had just left. He held his breath and left the phone off the hook as he went back to the bathroom and opened up the adjoining door to the next room. He locked the bathroom door on the inside, jamming the lock before he exited the other end and slipped through as many rooms that way till he made it back to his own.

Peter found his phone and quickly changed into some normal street clothes El had brought for when he was finally released. He kept the soft soled slippers to keep his steps quiet as he slipped back out into the hallway. He hadn't seen the outside since he'd come in through a side door, finding the agent from before slumped at his chair drugged unconscious. There was a bruise on his neck where he'd been stuck. Peter sighed, borrowed the man's holster and sidearm and hurried down the hallway to Dr. Erickson's office. The door was now slightly ajar, the agent pushing it open quietly and seeing a figure laying on the floor.

"Hey... Dr... Jacobs?" Peter stared at the still form there on the floor curious why the physician was in this office. Peter checked for a pulse but found none, the doctor dead but still warm. It had happened recently. Peter cursed quietly, looking around the room for signs and seeing very little to tell him what happened. He was about to get up and leave when he heard footsteps hurrying towards him from the hall. Peter glanced around for a place to hide ducking under the huge oak desk off to the left.

"Stupid mobsters and their petty requests! I can't create miracles when he sends morons to work with me." It was Dr. Erickson's voice, his tone far from professional or helpful. He sounded like a totally different person.

"Kill the agent... so easy for him to say when I have a doctor calling shots for the patients too. I would have had Burke under our thumb if not for Jacobs. Dammit... so curious why the drugs I gave him were making him freak out. Mind your own damn business... but no. Have to make me kill you. Stupid physicians." The man sounded pretty pissed, his rant continuing as he moved noisily around the room but not near the desk luckily.

Peter peeked up at some point seeing the man had closed and locked his office door as he moved towards a wall and pulled a few books off the shelf. Behind it was a safe. Peter crawled out from under the desk quietly, gun pulled from the holster without a sound as he stepped up behind the man and held the gun right up to his shoulder blades.

"Give me a reason I don't shoot you right now." Peter's voice was cold and menacingly despite the hissed tone. He watched Erickson stiffen and put his hands up as he turned his head half way.

"Agent Burke... how long have you been standing there? It's a bit early for our session..." Peter poked him with the gun and the man shut up fast.

"Long enough. Where did they take my partner? I know you're working with Friscinetti." Peter was pissed, holding the gun tightly in his hands as he motioned for the shrink to turn around and face him. Erickson looked a bit put off more than scared. In fact he had a slight grin on his face which made Peter wonder if someone was behind him but he could see there wasn't by the picture on the wall that reflected the scene behind him. He smirked back.

"I know there's nobody behind me, so what else could be making you smile when a man holds a gun on you?" Peter was curious what was going on in the man's head but he was more interested in finding Neal safe. Erickson's smirk matched his and grew.

"Oh, maybe that fact that as smart as Jacobs was, he wasn't smart enough to know that I traded your meds out for something a little more potent. And your sessions. You don't remember much of it other than what I told you to recall." The man's grin turned absolutely terrifying as Peter felt a bead of sweat drip down his temple, gun still held before him.

"Now give me the gun, Peter. You know you don't want to shoot me." Erickson's voice took on a weird quality that made his head ache for a moment.

"Come on... you don't want me to tell them to kill your partner do you? Give me the gun."

The words were regular words but there was something else, the tone was just off enough he could sense his mind fading away as his hands loosened on the gun and someone took the weapon from him. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder and he was turned around and sat down before he could recoup.

"It's ok, Peter. Everything is ok. Just let me get you more comfortable." Erickson kept talking, his tone just off enough it kept him from responding as he lay against the settee and felt his hands strapped back behind him to the legs, a rag pushed into his mouth and tape pulled over his lips.

"Now sleep... This place is going up in one big ball of fire and we can't have our evidence walking off, can we?" Erickson gently patted the agent on the head, Peter's eyes closing as he slumped back as if by some kind of hypnotic suggestion. Someone knocked softly at the door and the doctor turned, walking over and opening it up. Friscinetti's two henchmen stood there Neal between them.

"Good... bring him inside. His friend is waiting for him. Lay him... over there on that easy chair." The men did as instructed and left, Erickson smiling.

"It's a fortunate thing I was off running errands when the place caught fire. Oh wait... maybe I wasn't." He changed clothes with Doctor Jacobs quickly before leaving the room.

**()()()**

Neal had been trapped in darkness, his mind unable to wake up. He was only vaguely aware that people talked to him, were moving around outside of the darkness. Finally he felt someone touch his hand and hold it firmly in their own. They were quiet but he knew who it was and wanted to desperately wake up and talk to them but his body wouldn't respond.

_Neal?_

He heard the familiar voice speak but nothing else was said for a long time before they gently mussed at his hair and then left, their hand leaving his. He wanted to reach out and grasp their hand but again, hid body didn't follow his commands, his mind screaming in frustration.

Neal heard water running somewhere nearby then it shut off and silence again till he heard the soft click of the door opening.

_Peter? Is that you?_

He wondered to himself but the voices speaking weren't Peter's. They were those men again. Friscinetti's men. He felt anger and fear in one huge emotion beginning to slowly combine and form rage in his current helpless state. He wanted to be awake and help his friend. Did they have Peter? He wasn't sure as they spoke he barely heard their words as he worried about El and Peter.

They carried him around, his mind sleeping at some point after they took him away. He was tired, so very tired but he had to wake up if only to be certain his friends were safe. He finally woke up at some point and heard a door closed again. His eyes fluttered open a crack and rolled slowly to and fro as he tried to get a bearing on where he was.

Neal saw books and diplomas and snobbish dark wood shelving and furniture that made him think of stuffy profs and dusty college libraries. He tried to shift his weight and groaned looking down to see his arm that had itched was bandaged. It was no longer itchy but he had bruises forming where they had roughly removed his IVs and from the former abuse at his captors' hands. He took it all in and then turned seeing a figure across from him sprawled upon a small settee.

_Peter?_

He thought but he wanted to open his mouth and speak. His lips felt dry, parting ever so little.

_Peter?_

Still no sound but he thought the words. He could speak. Neal wanted to.

"P... ter..." His voice was raspy but he had spoken hadn't he?

"P... ter..." Neal moved a little, sliding a bit in the leather easy chair and wanting out. He got his wish when he slipped literally out of the chair on to the floor with a soft thud. Neal pushed himself up enough to crawl towards the figure.

"P... ter..." He tugged on the man's sleeve when he got close enough to lean against the seat but Peter just lay there, eyes shut, twitching a little. Neal pulled himself closer and saw that his friend was bound to the seat, carefully removing the bindings as he managed to sit on the edge and shake his friend as he removed the tape and rags from Peter's mouth.

"Pe... ter... wake... up." He was nudging the agent but Peter was out of it, his eyes slightly dilated when he checked.

_Dammit!_ he thought as he tried to think what to do. He saw the phone in Peter's pocket and pulled it out as he made a call and pushed it to his ear.

"Peter? I was just heading over there. Diana should be following soon. Bored already?" Jones sounded pretty chipper considering. Neal opened his mouth and hoped he was going to be able to speak.

"Jo...nes..." His voice cracked as he spoke but he had said something. There was a short silence.

"Neal? Where's Peter? Neal?"

Jones was still talking but Neal was distracted as something strong and acrid hit his nose. He looked at the door to the office and saw something gray seeping underneath into the room. Smoke! He lifted the phone back to his ear.

"Fi.. re... Hur... ry"


	10. Chapter 10

**(Chapter 10)**

Neal coughed, the smoke already making it hard to speak. He could hear Jones on the other end trying to get him to answer, but he dropped the phone into Peter's pocket so they could trace them. It was all he could think of, his mind a bit hazy still. It took him a moment but Neal managed to push himself to his feet, his eyes falling back on his friend. He wasn't sure what to do when he saw the medicine cabinet in the corner. He stumbled towards it, pulling on the handle but it was locked. He found something to pick the lock and opened up the cabinet. Inside he found a first aid kit, quickly sifting through till he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the item and stumbled back towards his friend.

"Pe... ter..." Neal coughed out, holding the item under his friend's nose and squeezing his fingers together. There was a quiet cracking sound. Peter's nose started to crinkle immediately, the older man coughing as Neal pulled the item away and smiled, tossing the small capsule to the floor. Peter continued to cough, eyes closed but he was at least waking up now. Neal gently patted his friend on the arm, looking around the room. He noticed the still form on the floor, unsure who it was. Neal walked over and checked the figure, the doctor cool to the touch. He shuddered, moving back towards Peter.

He was looking for a way out but saw nothing other than the front door where smoke continued to seep in. He had to find a way to get some fresh air into the room his eyes moving up just along the far wall. There were some small decorative windows up near the ceiling like a border. Neal glanced around and saw a heavy wooden cane leaning against the bookshelves and grabbed it. He carefully climbed up onto a small stool and reached up with the cane to smash the windows. It took a couple of tries before he heard the glass shatter. Neal ducked his head to avoid the falling shards but lost his balance, falling backwards. The cane hit the floor first with Neal following, his head cracking against the edge of a small end table as he collapsed to the ground and lay there twitching slightly then slumped against the floor unconscious.

**()()()**

Peter could hear Dr. Erickson's voice in his head. He remembered holding the gun and then... then...

The agent smelled something strong and pungent, crinkling his nose and trying to pull away from the scent. It made him more alert as he felt the scent fade, his mind feeling a bit more awake now. He coughed ever so slightly, a new scent filling his nose and making him reach up to cover his face. Peter thought he heard something break and then another louder thud. He opened his eyes and glanced up at the ceiling overhead, the room hazy with fog. Peter blinked, his eyes burning from whatever this haze was. He sat up confusion evident as he tried to recall what he was doing in Dr. Erickson's office. Peter saw a figure on the floor towards the door, eyes widening. He stood up, walking towards the figure and flipping them over. It was Dr. Jacobs but he was in Erickson's clothes.

_What was going on here?_

Peter tried to remember why he thought he had had a gun and how he'd ended up here when he saw the smoke seeping in under the office door. He needed to find a way out and then get to Neal. The younger man was probably still in his room. Peter found a side door behind a chair and opened it up. It led to a supply closet with a sink and lots of linens and medical supplies. He ignored the inventory and moved towards the door at the opposite end, its frosted window flickering with a bright glow. He reached for the knob and promptly pulled his hand back. The knob was hot to the touch. Peter cursed, moving back into the office and looking at the main door. He looked behind him and saw the broken window overhead, his eyes following the path from the glass down to the floor and a second figure.

"Neal?" Peter walked over to the figure, crouching down as he gently shook them, a low groan coming from the younger man. He sighed in relief, coughing from the ever growing cloud of smoke as he continued to nudge his friend and tried to wake him. He felt something wet on the side of the young man's head and saw blood, a gash where Neal's head had hit something hard. Peter wiped his hand on his shirt and moved back to his feet, lifting his partner with him, carrying the unconscious figure towards the front door. He gingerly touched the knob and it was merely warm, Peter opening it up.

Outside the hallway was completely filled with black smoke, Peter trying to see as he moved his head around. It was too hazy, his eyes burning. He went back into the office and lay Neal on the settee a moment while he went back into the supply closet, grabbed two clean towels, wet them in the sink then pulled one around the lower half of his face and another around Neal's. Then he went back out into the hall carrying Neal along and back towards his own room. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out.

"Burke..." His voice sounded muffled with the towel.

"_Peter? Where's Neal? He was using your phone earlier. Are you still in the clinic?_" Jones' voice spoke on the other end, Peter nodding.

"Yeah... Neal's hurt and the place is filled with smoke. Erickson..." He was trying to say something but his head started to hurt. He heard Jones reply.

"_What about Erickson... isn't he the shrink there? Where are you, Peter?_" Jones sounded like he was moving, voices in the background and sounds like men shouting and sirens.

"Headed back to my room. The agent outside my door is out cold. I think he was drugged. I... I had his gun but someone took it from me. One of Friscinetti's men..." Peter found his memory faulty suddenly, shaking his head as he came back to himself, opening up the door to his room to find it smoke free for the moment. He cracked open the barred window at the end after he lay Neal down on the bed. Peter went back outside, pulled the agent inside and put him on the sofa. Jones answered finally.

"_We're just outside but the fire is pretty intense. Stay put as long as you can. Elizabeth is safe with June and two agents. Hughes is talking with the higher ups about taking this Friscinetti business more seriously than they have been. I think they're starting to believe the story about Neal being coerced._" Jones sounded a bit tired but his voice held promise.

"Thanks. I'll see if I can find others and get them to this side. There's less smoke for the moment. Tell Elizabeth I'm ok, Clinton." He felt a tear roll down his cheek as Jones made a sound of assent and hung up. Peter sighed, putting the phone in his pocket as he check on the guard who was slowly rousing and then Neal, using the towel around his face to wipe at the gash on his head. The younger man groaned softly but didn't wake up, shifting slightly. Peter found a blanket and draped it over his friend before he went back out into the hallway, haze making him cough as he looked for other survivors. He found the agent in Neal's bed Friscinetti's men had placed there and carried him back but those was all the agents he found as he discovered fire further down the hall by Erickson's office.

Peter stuffed the little room, tired from moving in the smoke as he covered the bottom of the door with a sheet to keep most of the smoke out. All the agents he'd rescued, two total, were starting to slowly wake up with Peter's assistance, Neal still curled up on the sofa, eyes closed tight. He let the younger man sleep for now, having found some bandages to dress the gash on his head. Neal's breath was labored and wheezy, the only thing that worried Peter as he gained an audience with the now alert agents.

"Friscinetti's men set fire to this place and we're trapped inside for the moment. Hughes is outside with the cavalry trying to get us out. We seem to be ok for now but my partner is unconscious. We need to find a way to get out of here or at least make it easier for the FBI and emergency crews to find us. Any ideas?" Peter sat down with them, each with a cup of water as they looked between the lot of them and tried to brainstorm. The agent that had been outside his room raised his hand, Peter nodding to him to speak.

"I've worked here a few times. There's an old duct big enough for people to crawl through. This clinic is pretty old so the ducts aren't very modern. I know a way in that leads out to a side vent. It's locked though. We'd be trapped without a saw or something to cut through." The agent spoke quietly, Peter nodding.

"What's your name, agent?" Peter asked, looking at the man with a smile.

"Henricks, Agent Burke sir!" He wasn't too much younger than Neal but he seemed seasoned enough. Peter smiled.

"You know me?" Peter seemed surprised the agents both nodding.

"Agent Allard, sir. We've heard of your reputation and your consultant. Glad we're able to help out." The other agent spoke up, looking eager. Peter smiled and nodded.

"Let's discuss this lock. Henricks... is it pickable?"

**()()()**

After a thorough discussion on the where and how, Peter and Henricks left to check out the duct and see if they could get it open. It required going through the section where the fire was worse but Peter had his phone and gave his number to Allard in case something happened.

Allard closed the door and locked it once the agents had left. He pushed the sheet back under the door to keep the smoke out. Once he was done he walked over to a medicine / supply cabinet in the room, cracked it open and took out a scalpel. He walked towards Neal who was still unconscious on the couch, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and putting them on the young man, drawing his arms behind him. Neal didn't resist much, moving very little as he lay on the sofa.

"I don't want to do this but Erickson said I have to or she's dead. I'm sorry."

**()()()**

Peter followed Henricks into a maintenance closet and then up into the ceiling through a large vent. The agent had a Swiss army knife using the blade to quickly remove the screws as they pulled the grating out and climbed up. The duct was sturdy enough, both men able to crawl through it without much problem. The metal barely creaked as they shuffled through as quickly as they could avoiding areas where the smoke and heat were dangerous. They finally made it to the opening, a large grate that was locked in place with a chain. Peter cursed, sitting as best he could in the small space, Henricks beside him, both men resting as they tried to catch a few whiffs of fresh air from the grating, their only view of the outside, before they headed back in. Both men temporarily removed the wet cloths from their face that kept the smoke out.

"Caffrey... that's your partner's name isn't it?" Henricks was fishing, trying to start a conversation, being as diplomatic as he could. Peter had heard the hesitation on the '_partner_' part but ignored it.

"Yes, he's been my consultant and partner for over a year. Smart kid." He left it at that seeing Henricks nod without much expression before speaking again.

"I... I'm not trying to be rude but maybe just a little curious... he's an ex-con isn't he? You caught him and put him away. You're not afraid he'll run or anything?" Henricks blushed now, his face looking rather boyish despite the slight shadow of a goatee around his mouth. Peter blinked then shook his head.

"I'm not afraid he'll run. He... well his reason for running is gone but he has plenty of friends and family here to keep him occupied. And I did catch him but he's not your typical con. Why do you ask?" Peter was curious now, the young man shrugging.

"I heard Allard talking to Erickson about the both of you when they brought you on the ambulance. I only heard a little bit but it sounded rather odd the tone of their conversation. I didn't think anything of it at the time but Allard was a bit upset he was guarding you and not your partner." Henricks shrugged again, looking back the way they came and getting on this knees.

"Maybe we should head back before we're trapped here. How are we going to get this open?" Henricks seemed honestly concerned about the situation but his words about Allard were bothering Peter, the distraction only momentary as he started to follow.

"Neal... I think my partner can open this but I need to wake him up. He's been pretty beat up so I don't know how conscious he'll be but he's picked worse in his sleep. Let's go."

**()()()**

It took them another 15 minutes or so to get back to the maintenance closet. The smoke was thicker now and Peter felt his cell ringing.

"Burke... what is it?" Peter listened, nodding.

"We found a duct out but it's locked up tight. Can't get out that way. Going to see if Neal can pick it but he's still unconscious last I looked. It's at the rear of the building if you want to take an axe to it. Thanks Jones." Peter hung up, turning to Henricks as they approached the room where Allard and Caffrey were.

"Let's see how my partner's doing. Maybe he's up by now." Peter smiled at the other agent, his hand reaching for the knob. He grabbed it and it didn't turn, a tight sound as if the door were locked. He tried it again but it wouldn't budge.

"We left the room open didn't we? ALLARD? Open up! It's Burke and Henricks!" Peter coughed as he finished yelling, smoke still thick in the hallway. He saw the look on Henricks face, both of them moving back far enough before they ran at the door. It took a few tries before the wood splintered and they could push the door aside.

"Neal? Allard?" Peter called out and heard a sound of someone breathing hard. A figure sat on the floor, blood on them and a gun in their hand, cuffs hanging off one wrist.

"Neal? What happened?" Peter moved forward seeing the younger man glance up at him with a horrified expression. The agent drew nearer seeing the body of Allard on the floor near his partner, the man obviously dead of a gunshot wound. Peter crouched down and felt the man's neck. He was definitely dead, Peter rubbing a hand through his hair worriedly as he turned his glance back to Neal, the younger man looking like a frightened deer, body shaking as he held the gun in his lap.

"Neal... What happened? Neal?" The young man was looking at him and then down at the gun, blue eyes wide with terror, body trembling. He was in shock, Peter nodding with a soft smile as he slowly reached for the gun removing it from Neal's hand and lap and handed it to Henricks. The other agent went and dropped it onto the bedside table before coming back.

"He shot Allard? I thought you said you trusted him!" Henricks was looking a bit freaked out suddenly, uncertainty in his voice. Peter turned and looked at the agent with a scowl.

"Neal doesn't shoot people! Let me find out what happened first." Peter spoke firmly before turning back towards his partner and consultant. Neal hadn't spoke yet, his breath still wheezy and dangerously audible. Peter touched the younger man's shoulder and saw those blue eyes grow wider, Neal pulling away as he curled up against the side of the sofa like a child hiding from a yelling parent.

"Neal... look at me. I need to know what happened. Neal!" Peter didn't want to yell or mean to but it seemed to get a response from his friend.

"He said he was... supposed to... kill me. You too when you came back. No... witnesses." Neal's voice shook as he spoke, cracking here and there as he kept his face turned and pressed against the edge of the sofa. Peter blinked, his face shocked at the revelation.

"He was going to kill us? Why? What reason would he..." Peter paused thinking back to how this had all started. He had had a gun... Allard's gun but it had vanished sometime before he woke up in Erickson's office. He tried to think back to how and where but his mind continued to come up a blank. The sound of a gun cocking made him look back to see Henrick's holding the gun Neal had on the ex-con. Peter stood up slowly, hands in front of him as he glanced at the other agent.

"He's dangerous Burke... I don't know why you trusted him. Maybe he started this fire with Friscinetti. He's a criminal!" The man was panicking now but Peter kept moving slowly till he was between the agent and Neal, hands still up as he tried to think of what to say.

"Henricks... we don't know what happened here. Neal doesn't shoot people in cold blood. He doesn't like guns! Give me the pistol and we'll talk about this." Peter held one hand out, the other up to show he wasn't going to try anything. Henricks just looked at him with wide eyes, trying his best to point the gun around him but Peter kept moving enough to block Neal.

"Peter..." The voice was tinny, the agent trying not to be distracted but curious by the tone. Without turning he spoke back at his partner.

"Neal? What is it?" He kept his voice calm, soft so as to not make anyone nervous.

"I..." Neal didn't finish his voice trailing off as he collapsed to the floor. Peter turned despite the threat from Henricks and the gun, the young man unconscious in a heap at the foot of the sofa. There was more blood than before, Peter curious where it was coming from if Allard was already dead. He turned back to Henricks, his manner desperate.

"Stay down!" His tone apparently worked as he saw Henricks nod and put the gun at his side uncocked but at the ready. Peter crouched back down next to his friend and looked Neal over. It took a moment but he found the source of the bleeding finally.

"Dammit... get a first aid kit!" Peter pulled the sheet from the sofa that had covered the con and started tearing it into strips. He used part of it as a compress as he pushed against a wound in the younger man's shoulder and another along his wrist. He'd been cut deeply, blood seeping out slowly from both cuts. Peter turned when he heard Henricks drop the kit beside him.

"Thanks... help me with this. Hold this on his shoulder while I work on his wrist." Peter wrapped the young man's wrist after sewing the wound shut as much as he could. Neal twitched a bit as he did the actual stitches but it was necessary. Once he was done he started on the shoulder and did the same after he had also cleaned the wound and stitched it shut. The bleeding was only minimal now, both wrapped tightly as Peter sat back and saw Henricks looking at the con curiously.

"Those don't look self-inflicted. Defensive wounds? I don't understand..." He was looking over at Neal, Peter nodding.

"He defended himself against someone with something sharp..." Peter finally saw it, something shiny glittering underneath Allard's arm in a pool of red. It was a scalpel.

Peter sighed deeply, this mess with Friscinetti was getting worse by the moment. Erickson was involved with this and so had this agent. He cursed softly covering Neal with the remains of the blanket and pushing a cushion under the young man's head. They needed to get out of here and get Neal some medical attention.

"**_FBI! OPEN UP!_**"

Peter heard the muffled voices of agents outside and motioned for Henricks to open the door. At least now they'd be rescued he thought as he gently brushed a hair from Neal's face. The young man had been through so much since this all started and it had to end. At least Elizabeth was safe. He turned as he heard the door open.

"Are we glad to see..." Henricks didn't finish his sentence a quiet '_popping_' sound shutting him up as he jerked ever so slightly then collapsed to the ground. Peter's gut suddenly felt tight as he saw a familiar face pop in.

"Agent Burke, so nice to see you again."

**oOoOoOo**

**Author's Note:** _I know this is dragging on but that jerk Friscinetti keeps trying to do what he wants. He's about to get his just desserts. Trust me. Whumpage fest is about to end and revenge will reign. Thanks for keeping up. I appreciate all the ocmments and reviews._


	11. Chapter 11

**(Chapter 11)**

Friscinetti stood in the doorway. The mobster had a gas mask on, the same two men as before behind him also with masks. Peter stood up, looking at the man with just a hint of fear he pushed away. He had to stand up and keep the man occupied while Jones and crew came to the rescue. He hoped they were close for Neal's sake.

"I figured nobody had managed to get rid of you thus far, and while your Fed friends are outside and confused by the idea of fire, I would take care of this myself." The mobster smiled, his white teeth glittering despite the smoke filling the room. His eyes gleamed with a maniacal excitement, Peter more attentive to the gun in the man's hand than any expression on his face. The mobster continued to smile.

"Shall we go? I know a way out where nobody will bother us." Friscinetti waved the gun, his two men moving forward with their own pistols, one grasping Peter before he could react and the other grabbing up Neal in a fireman's carry as they moved out. The agent looked back briefly at the still form on the floor of Henricks with regret, blinking when he saw a brief shudder from the man's face, eyes looking up at him then acting dead when the henchmen looked his way. Peter deftly dropped his phone next to the agent when nobody was looking before they left the room and the supposedly dead Henricks.

Friscinetti and his men forced Peter forward past Erickson's office and into an adjoining room where Peter saw what looked like an opening in the floor of the room to an old maintenance tunnel. He turned to look at the mobster curiously when he saw a still form in the corner slumped in a chair. It was Erickson, eyes staring up at the ceiling without seeing. That was one last person he had to worry about catching.

"Move already!" The henchman with the gun on him pushed Peter forward almost pitching him head first down the narrow hole. Peter caught himself and started down the ladder as quickly as he could only complying because they had Neal. The first henchman followed him down, gun in hand and pointed at him as he descended. Peter moved aside, hands up and in the open.

"Catch your friend when they pass him down!" The man kept waving the gun as Peter climbed up a few rungs to wait for Friscinetti and the other man to lower his partner into the tunnel. Neal felt lighter than he should, his body limp and nearly lifeless. Peter cringed at the coolness of the younger man's skin and naturally felt for a pulse. What he felt was weak but Neal was alive and kicking, his breath shallow with a slight wheeze. He wasn't going to last long unless he got to a hospital and fast.

"You'll be carrying him the rest of the way, Agent Burke." Friscinetti hissed as they moved on, the three mobsters having removed their masks, tossing them aside as the hole was sealed back up. The mobster led the way with the two henchmen behind and Peter carrying Neal in the middle. The man started to speak, his manner like a pompous college prof and just as annoying.

"These tunnels were built over in the eighties and forgotten after the wiring and telephones for the building were updated. I found plans for them some time ago when trying to get back at another agent who investigated me. They always seemed to bring them here so I hired my own psychiatrist to infiltrate the place and make sure everyone who was brought to this safe house was far from _safe_. It worked out till he got greedy. Erickson won't be bothering anyone anymore although I am more than aware what it is that he did to you, Agent Burke." Friscinetti smiled coldly as he turned and looked at Peter briefly, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of the tunnel. Neal slumped against Peter's shoulder as he carried his partner and tried to keep up with the mobster. He may have been given a clean bill of health from the late Dr. Jacobs, but Peter had been far from well. He still had no idea what Erickson had done to him if anything, his memory still fuzzy. It didn't help Friscinetti knew of his vulnerabilities.

"We stop here." The mobster made a motion and Peter felt one of the henchmen grab his arm and the other pull Neal from him. He made a move towards his partner and friend when the henchman hit him hard across the back of the head, the blow stunning him as he collapsed to the ground. He was lifted back up to his feet, his wrists pulled back behind him, cuffed and then up as they hooked on a ring on the wall. He was dangling, feet barely touching the ground as he gazed with blurry vision at movement in the dimly lit tunnel. He saw they were in a kind of _way_ area, a door with a wheel hatch to his left. He saw the two men drag Neal over to the opposite wall and do the same thing, hanging him from his wrists on another ring.

"Let him go... please!" He heard himself beg, something he thought he would ever do but Neal was hurting, blood already showing where his make-shift stitches were tearing from the pull on his shoulder and wrist. He watched as one of the henchmen pulled out a small syringe filled with something yellowish and tapped the needle. They were going to jack him up with that drug again. The bastards were going to kill Neal this time if they did, Dr. Jacobs and his cure no longer available. He struggled against the cuffs but one of the goons walked over and pushed their gun against his temple, gun cocked.

"Kill me if you want but let him go. Don't do this. Please? If you have to put it in someone... let me take it. He's suffered enough!" Peter didn't know why he was begging. He didn't want to die or leave Elizabeth but he couldn't let them hurt Neal anymore. It was his fault this happened. His investigation that caused it all to happen, even the kidnapping of his wife by Neal. If anyone was going to pay, it should be him. He saw the man pause and look at Friscinetti, the mobster smiling and nodding.

"I knew we could convince you at some point to volunteer. That's all I wanted, Agent Burke." The man kept smiling, one hand gently caressing Neal's hair as if he were a favorite pet. Peter growled at the man but stopped when both henchmen held him still and the needle moved closer to his neck. He had to comply for Neal's sake.

"Such a potent spot to place my drug. This version is much purer. You'll feel a whole new respect for me after you take it. You may even think I'm God." The man laughed, nothing but chills from it coursing up and down Peter's spine. He didn't want to do this but if he had to... For Neal's sake. He felt the needle start to prick his skin, pushing deeper into his neck and into a vein when the pressure lessened and the man suddenly slumped to the ground. Peter was confused for a second, looking at the small red stain appearing on the man's chest. Friscinetti looked confused as well, turning to look and see where the shot at come from.

"Don't even think about it, Friscinetti. I've already contacted the Feds outside. They're coming up through that door. You're trapped!" Henricks' voice was firm as he suddenly appeared in the dimly lit tunnel, pistol in his hand. He looked a bit pained, a red stain on his shoulder where he had been hit earlier.

"I guess you wanted Erickson to look like a suicide but leaving a gun with a silencer by a body was foolhardy. You ok, Burke?" The younger agent asked seeing the henchman that was left still holding a gun on him. Peter nodded as best he could, his eyes moving from the agent to the mobster and Neal, Friscinetti holding his own gun to Neal's chin.

"You'll have to make a choice, Agent. Do you save the Fed who has a fantastic record with awards and several years of service or do you sacrifice his pet con? Either way you'll be making a mistake and you might even lose both." The mobster laughed, gun cocking dangerously. Peter struggled despite the gun against his temple.

**()()()**

Just an hour ago, Neal lay mostly unconscious on the sofa in Peter's hospital room at the FBI clinic. He could hear the occasional voice, tuning into Peter's when he could as he tried to wake up, the head wound and his previous injuries making that impossible. He dealt with the bit of consciousness he could muster, listening despite his helplessness. He heard the door shut and then lock, someone walking towards him but he knew he had heard Peter leave so who was still here?

Neal heard an unfamiliar voice speak to him and then rough hands flip him enough that he felt cold metal against his wrists as his arms were pulled uncomfortably behind him, cuffs tightened and clicked into place. He heard the figure talking, catching a word or two and knowing he was in danger.

_Peter? Peter help!_

He couldn't speak, his body still mostly unresponsive but trying his best to wake up so he could at least see who it was that meant him harm. His eyes fluttered open ever so slowly, widening when he saw the flash of metal coming towards him. He managed to duck and roll off the sofa out of the way, the man missing him by inches as the sharp metal stuck into the couch where he had only just seconds before lay. Neal breathed hard, looking up from the floor where the man hunched over him, pulling the metallic item out of the sofa and looked down at him with a manic gleam.

"I don't want to do this but he has her! I can't fail or she's dead!" The man, dark blond hair almost brown with golden highlights falling over his face as he moved around glared down at Neal, brown eyes flashing with desperation. Neal scooted back, away from the man trying his best to free himself of the cuffs so he could defend himself against the figure. He opened his mouth, lips and throat dry not just from fear.

"Who is it... they have?" He hoped he could stall long enough to get at least one wrist free then he could get away. The man seemed to pause long enough to think, hand held up ready to stab him in the heart if not the head. Neal swallowed hard hoping for more time.

"My wife... Erickson took her. He has her somewhere and I don't know where. Friscinetti is playing all his cards now. He wants you both dead and I said I would take care of you. That would make your agent friend easier to control. I'm sorry... but I can't lose her!"

Neal looked at the man, that desperation in his eyes but he was far from reasonable and if he had to kill him, he was going to kill him. He felt the cuff give and pulled his arm free as the scalpel came down cutting at his wrist. Neal winced as he felt the blade push through his arm then pull out. He did what he could to keep the man from stabbing him again, kicking at his knee till the man fell back away from him with a cry of pain. Neal stumbled to his feet but the man had already recovered and jumped him, slamming him to the floor hard. Neal twisted around so he could see better, pushing at the agent but without success. His hands wrapped around something cold and metallic near the man's waist, grasping the object in a hope it would defend him. Neal cried out when the scalpel stabbed into his shoulder, the man twisting it.

"I won't let you go if it means she lives!" Allard screamed, pulling the scalpel out, one arm pushed hard across Neal's throat choking him as he used his other hand to raise the blade for one final blow. Neal felt the metal item in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it tightly, the item making a soft click as he pulled back on it and sound exploded. Allard's face went calm a moment, the scalpel falling from his hands as he collapsed next to the wounded consultant. Neal pulled himself away as much as he could, gun still in hand. He was shaking, the man staring blankly up at him.

_Neal had shot someone but he had to didn't he?_

The thought raced through his mind with half a million others that made him stare at the dead man as he went into a state of shock. He was paralyzed till he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Peter there.

_Peter? What..._

He couldn't finish the thought trying to come to terms with what had happened. He was tired, so very tired suddenly and he couldn't keep his eyes open. Another man held a gun now, the gun he had shot the other agent with. If he was killed it would be over wouldn't it? He didn't care, he just wanted to close his eyes. Peter stood blocking him from the man with the gun, eyes fluttering closed as he collapsed and passed out.

It seemed forever he lay in darkness till he felt a pain, his body aching again. His breath labored as he tried to fight back the agony of his body but he was waking up, slowly but he was coming back to consciousness.

"You'll have to make a choice, Agent. Do you save the Fed who has a fantastic record with awards and several years of service or do you sacrifice his pet con? Either way you'll be making a mistake and you might even lose both."

That voice sounded familiar, something cool pressed up against his chin. His eyes fluttered open to reveal a dimly lit scene that made him think of the movie _Das Boot_ and being inside a submarine or the bowels of a ship. Neal didn't move his head but his still unfocused eyes took in figures moving around him, one in particular seemed more familiar as his vision cleared.

_Peter?_

The thought gave him some comfort before the pain and blood loss overcame him, his system stressed to the limit as all of it came to fruition and he turned his head to the right and threw up. Someone cursed, the metallic object pressed against his chin pulled quickly away and the sound of a gun going off not too soon after apparent in the small space. The sound echoed loudly off the metal walls making his head hurt as he threw up again, his body reacting to everything as he slumped forward, eyes starting to close again.

"Neal... Neal! Check on him, Henricks. Neal!"

Peter was yelling, Neal feeling his stomach churning despite the feeling of unconsciousness coming over him. He slumped against his bindings, feeling someone catch him when they were loosened. His eyes fluttered open a moment to see Peter there.

"Neal? Neal... Help me with him."

Neal closed his eyes again, feeling tired but hearing movement around him, loud footsteps echoing around and voices shouting. Then blessed darkness.

**()()()**

Neal woke up to a feeling of being hung over. His head throbbed, body ached and his stomach churned ever so little as his eyes fluttered open and glanced up at the boring white ceiling above. His eyes blinked a few times before they moved downwards to his right and then around the room to his left slowly before stopping at a door.

He was in a hospital room, he knew that much but where? Was it that same clinic? Had it all been a big nightmare? His stomach churned again, a gurgling sound audible as he glanced around for some solace from his nausea. He started to try and slide out of bed, pushing the metal bar to his left down with some effort as he reached for a small wastebasket on the floor and vomited. The monitors were beeping a bit louder than they should be, one IV pulling taut against the needle in his arm painfully as he collapsed to the floor by the trashcan and curled up.

"I'm here now... Yes El. I'll see you later. Say hi to June for me. Yes I have the bag. Love you too." Peter hung up the cell as he walked down the hallway, heading for Neal's room at the hospital. He saw the agent missing outside when he showed and had a moment of fear only calming when he saw the agent returning with a cup of coffee. The man nodded at him in recognition.

"Agent Burke, sir." The man remained standing, placing the coffee on his seat. Peter smiled, motioning for the man to relax.

"Just here to see my partner. I guess it's been quiet?" He hoped to hear that was the case, the agent nodding.

"Yes sir." The man didn't say much, he was a younger agent but capable if they had him here. Peter nodded back and headed inside the room seeing the empty bed as the door shut with a quiet click behind him. A cold feeling washed over him till Peter heard the cough from below and looked down to see a figure on the floor curled up around a waste paper basket.

"Neal? Hey buddy..." Peter was immediately at his friend's side, crouched beside him and crinkling his nose as he realized why Neal was on the floor. He took the trashcan and moved it aside, checking his friend's forehead. Neal didn't have a fever but he was warm and sweaty, skin pale with a flush of his cheeks. Peter gently removed the monitors and IVs as he helped the young man up to his feet slowly. He took him into the bathroom and sat him on the stool in the shower as he ran the water and gently splashed water on the young man's face, grabbing a cup and helping him rinse his mouth out. Once Neal looked like he was feeling better, Peter led his sick friend back out to the main room and eased him back into the bed.

The young man slumped back against the mattress and pillows, eyes closed, breath raspy. Peter reached across and pushed the nurse call wondering why they hadn't already shown up with all the monitors disconnected. He had barely finished doing so when Neal's hand grasped his arm tightly, blue eyes open a crack and looking up at him. Peter gently took the young man's hand in his own, taking it from his arm as carefully as he could.

"Hey... are you feeling better?" He continued to hold his friend's hand, Neal grasping it tightly and nodding after a moment.

"You gave me a scare there when I walked in. I thought something had happened. I guess your stomach is still a bit upset." Peter patted the younger man gently on the head, brushing a hair from his face. Neal closed his eyes, hand starting to let go then clinging again, eyes open wide.

"What is it? I'm right here, Neal." Peter pulled the chair over with his free hand and sat down, their hands still entwined. Neal looked at him curiously, lips parting as he tried to speak but instead coughed.

"Did you want a drink of water?" Peter moved towards the bathroom again but felt his partner grasp his hand tighter keeping him in place.

"N...o." Neal's voice was raspy and quiet but he had spoken. Peter smiled.

"Just take your time." He watched Neal nod as he cleared his throat with a wet cough and then tried again.

"Fris... ci... netti..." He started to cough again, Peter looking around and finally seeing the door open as a head peeked in and a nurse showed.

"I'm sorry for the delay. How is he doing?" She was about to ask more when she saw Neal wasn't hooked up to the monitors anymore and frowned. Peter blushed slightly.

"I came in and he was on the floor sick." He pointed at the trashcan and then continued.

"I unhooked everything to take him to the bathroom. Couldn't wait." He gave her a helpless shrug which she nodded at with an understanding smile.

"Our fault. We just had a change over of staff for the new shift and just got your alert. I apologize. Let me check him over. Mr. Caffrey, wasn't it?" She looked at him with a soft smile and Neal nodded tiredly back as she took his free hand in hers and touched his wrist as she looked at her watch. She nodded.

"Your pulse is good, if not a bit fast but that might be from the illness." She touched his forehead and smiled again.

"No fever... Breath sounds a bit ragged though. How do you feel?" She had pulled out a stethoscope and was listening to his chest, gently moving him forward with Peter's help to listen to his lungs from the back before letting him lie back again.

"Little congested sounding but probably just the cold you came in with. I'll put you back on that drip of antibiotics. You're doing so much better. I'll bring you something back for your stomach." She smiled brightly at him and Peter, promptly and very delicately returning the monitors and IV connections. Once she was done, she left them alone again, Peter sitting back down.

"Friscinetti is in the hospital. He was shot although not life threatening." Peter threw that out there seeing Neal blink back at him then start to open his mouth to speak. A tightness filled the agent's chest when he thought about how close he had come to losing the young man.

"How?" Neal said nothing else, cough a bit after he spoke but holding up a hand when Peter looked worried.

"Well..." Peter flushed a bit, his face holding some emotion back that soon broke into a light chuckle that confused the younger man. It took a moment but Peter finally stopped laughing.

"I'm sorry but uhm... you stopped him and Henricks got a shot in before he could do anything. His gon gave up pretty quickly after that, but then you made everyone want to give up." Peter sighed, his lips still stuck in a small smirk. Neal was confused.

"I don't recall doing anything. What could I have done? I remember being semi-conscious and throwing up." Neal tried to think what else could have happened, the smirk on Peter's face growing.

"Sorry... yeah, you threw up but you did it on Friscinetti. He pulled his gun away long enough for Henricks to shoot him and the other guy holding me gave up immediately. Cowarded out. He's in jail waiting for the trial. He and his boss are going away for some time." Peter was smiling broadly now, Neal blinking at the revelation.

"I threw up on Friscinetti?" He tried to recall that and thought about the metal that had been pushed against his chin. A gun! He shivered a moment but then the irony of the situation hit him. He vomited on the mobster who was grossed out enough he was apprehended. A grin started to form on his face, Peter nodding.

"Wow... who would have thought tossing my cookies would have made me a hero." Neal was sounding a bit better now, humor lacing his voice as he spoke. Peter grinned with a slight arch of his brow.

"Yeah... well you grossed us all out. It was totally unexpected but enough of a distraction to get at Friscinetti. He was whining about it all the way out. You ruined a nice suit apparently." He patted the younger man on the shoulder careful of his wound. Neal smiled up, yawning slightly as he started to feel worn out again.

"How long have I been here? You look better. Allard said Erickson did something to you." He sounded worried despite the yawn that followed, his energy starting to wane. Peter nodded.

"Three almost four days. And... yeah, post hypnotic suggestion courtesy of Erickson. Friscinetti really wanted to screw with both of us but apparently long term for me. My new '_shrink_' says I should be ok in a few weeks. It takes some time to dismantle those kinds of things as intricately woven as they were by Erickson. He's dead." His voice went serious a moment, Neal blinking again more from surprise than sleepiness.

"Friscinetti wasn't taking any chances was he? I saw Dr. Jacobs. He didn't deserve what happened. I..." Neal paused thinking back to what he had done to El when he took her hostage. He'd hurt both of his friends and wondered how Peter could forgive him and talk to him as if nothing had happened. He turned his head away a moment, hiding the shame he suddenly felt as he remembered everything. Peter touched his shoulder but he didn't turn back.

"Hey... Neal what's the matter? You ok?" He sounded concerned, Neal turning with watery blue eyes averted.

"I was remembering... what I had done. If you want to throw me back into prison... I'll understand." Neal felt guilt suddenly eating at him as it all flooded back, his head hurting in the process. Perhaps he was still withdrawing from those drugs. He didn't know for certain, his eyes turned aside.

"Prison? Why would I... oh. Neal... I was hoping you wouldn't remember that." Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair and patting his friend on the arm.

"El understood and Mozzie explained it to me. You were... coerced. I knew it after I saw the surveillance tapes. After the higher ups found out about Allard's involvement in trying to kill the both of us, and Friscinetti's man told us where to find the agent's wife, they decided to reconsider what happened. Hughes threw in his two cents along with Diana and Jones. Your status is good. June's just waiting for you to come back home when you're better. Ok?" Peter made his tone firm as if to say, that's all there is to say on the subject. Neal nodded with a relieved smile.

"Thanks." Neal still didn't seem like he was over what he had done but for now he would just deal. He was stuck in the hospital a while longer. Both men turned when the nurse showed up again, a bottle of something in her hand.

"For your stomach, Mr. Caffrey." She grabbed a disposable cup from the dispenser in the corner and poured some of the nasty blue gray liquid into the cup and handed it to Neal who glanced at it with a slight scowl. Peter made the same look knowing what that was and not envying his friend for having to take it.

"Do I have to? It looks... worse than I feel." Neal continued to look at the liquid, swirling it in the small cup, the nurse nodding.

"Either that or a feeding tube and that's going to be uncomfortable with you being awake." She arched a brow at him and Neal finally nodded, holding his nose and chugging the liquid with a crinkle of his nose, face twisted into a scowl.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" She patted him on the arm and took the cup back, offering him another full of water. Neal drank it up asking for more when the taste just wouldn't leave. Peter watched quietly glad it wasn't him drinking that gunk.

"When you're feeling better, there's food. Just push the nurse call." The nurse smiled and left the two men again, Peter smiling at Neal in understanding.

"Stomach any better, Neal?" Peter stood and stretched a moment as he waited for a reply. Neal shrugged.

"Not churning quite so much but not sure this stuff helped. Makes me think I'm drinking a cup of liquid chalk. Color isn't very appetizing either. How much longer did they say I have to stay here?" Neal was pleading now, his blue eyes turning to puppy eyes as he asked. Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

"They said you're doing well with the withdrawal but you still have the other injuries to heal from. Doctor's call at this point. Just rest. You've been through a lot. I'm on administrative leave till they finish the investigation and get me re-evaluated as well." Peter sighed on the last part, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes a moment. Neal reached over and touched him on the arm. Peter looked at his friend, a silent moment of understanding passing between them.

"It'll be ok." Peter left it at that, wishing he felt the way he said it.

**()()()**

Two more weeks passed, Neal having been let out a six days after he had been admitted. Once the doctors determined he had gotten over the worse of his injuries and showed no more signs of reacting to Friscinetti's designer drug, he was released. They attributed his blood loss to helping in his treatment, most of the drug leaving his system when he had bled out.

Due to the circumstances behind their involvement with the Friscinetti case, Neal and Peter's comments were taken out of court, more than enough proof to send the man away.

Neal was in his apartment at June's, lounging on the chaise on the patio. He had kept to himself for the past few days, still feeling the effects of the drug despite it not being in his system. He still felt guilt at what happened with Elizabeth, avoiding her and Peter to some extent. He barely left the apartment except for the occasional walk to the park where he promptly turned around the other day to head back home when Mozzie appeared. He just wanted to be alone to think about stuff, so here he was on the terrace, eyes closed as he leaned back and tried to forget.

"Neal?"

He opened his eyes when June's voice carried across the room. He wiped the sleep from them, turning to look at his landlady and friend with a smile.

"Hey June... Anything wrong?" He felt a bit awkward since he'd been alone for so many days. She shook her head and walked across the room and sat beside him on the chaise.

"Just checking up on you. How are you feeling, Neal? I know something's been bothering you." She held up a hand when he made to protest, quieting him.

"I have some guests coming for dinner tonight. I want you to get cleaned up and come downstairs and meet them." She was asking but not asking, her manner strangely firm which made him nod after a moment and smile.

"If you're going to twist my arm about it." He smirked, chuckling as she pinched his cheek in a motherly manner.

"Well, you need to be out and about. Mozzie's been asking why you're avoiding him..." Her voice trailed off, his mouth opening to say something to redirect but then closing before he could start. She was right: He had been avoiding contact with those he was close to since he'd been released. He was still worried about what he had put Elizabeth through and the fact he had shot a man, even if it had been in self-defense. Peter had assured him Hughes had squared everything with the higher ups but the incidents still haunted him. He felt a gentle squeeze of his shoulder and looked to see June watching him curiously.

"When are your friends coming over?"

**()()()**

Neal was putting on the finishing touches on his clothes, pulling on a nice sky blue skinny silk tie with dark blue stripes accented in white around the collar of his beige button up shirt. Everything was perfect as he slipped last of all into his navy jacket over shiny black pants and even shinier patent leather black Italian loafers. He kept looking at himself in the mirror, unsure he wanted to go downstairs. He felt guilty for having avoided his own friends and now he was going to talk to strangers he didn't know but at least they weren't aware of his current situation. He could do some simple polite chitchat without worrying about looks of pity or knowing glances. No guilt.

Neal sighed as he finally felt ready to go downstairs and grabbed up one of his favorite hats. June had been the best of benefactors to him and a great friend. It was the least he could do but meet her friends if she asked. In fact he felt honored she liked to introduce him as if he was a son. He felt a slight flush come to his cheeks, waiting for it to leave before he donned on his most charming smile and headed out the door. He slowly made his way down the short hallway and towards the stairs, stepping down quietly. Low voices spoke from nearby, murmurs from the dining room as he reached the bottom, made one last adjustment to his attitude to be charming and turned to head towards them.

"He should be coming down any... there he is. Neal... I'm glad you could make it." June was smiling graciously, a little smirk on her lips as she saw Neal's expression.

"I don't know if you remember my friends, The Burkes. They came for dinner."

Neal felt his smile almost break a moment as he saw Elizabeth and Peter sitting at the table with a glass of wine smiling back at him. Peter stood up and reached a hand over as if they were just meeting, a wink as he did so.

"Peter Burke, nice to meet you Neal. June's told us so many nice things about you."

Neal just nodded with his mask of charm on, unsure how to react but going with the flow as he smiled back and nodded. He was still too dumb to react verbally, El standing up and holding out her hand as well.

"So this is the infamous Neal Caffrey. I thought you were making him up, June. So nice to meet you finally." She winked playfully at him, giving him a half hug across the table then letting go. Neal still felt too awestruck to say much, June patting him on the shoulder as she turned him towards her other guest.

"I don't believe you've met my friend, Mr. Haversham. He's almost as elusive as you are, Neal." She moved aside as Mozzie stood with a funny little grin and held out his hand almost nervously.

"Charmed, I'm sure. June told me you're a fan of art and wine. Two of my favorite things. I think we'll be fast friends." He almost sounded serious if not for looking over at the others as if unsure what he was supposed to be doing with this charade. Neal could sense his friend's uncertainty, feeling a bit surprised by everyone being there after so many days alone. Suddenly, he started to laugh, closing his eyes and just feeling all the stress drain away. Someone touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see Peter there.

"So, I heard you're a consultant. I've been looking for someone to help me on some cases here in the New York office. Interested?"

**(The End)**


End file.
